Dreamer Awakened
by Ruri Hoshino
Summary: Kusanagi has disappeared and Momiji returns to Izumo where she finds her life endangered a circumstance that is, in part, responsible for drawing Kusanagi back into her life.
1. Author's Notes

**_Author's Notes_**

Dreamer Awakened was born out of my desire to "see" more of the characters that I loved in Blue Seed. If you are interested to know a little bit about this fan fiction before trying to read it, then you're in the right place.   
But first, let me apologize to anyone who reads this and is struck by my woefully inadequate understanding of Japanese culture and way of life. I am but a lemming and my desire to follow the path that this story takes has led me to the precipice of my ignorance, where, like the lemming that I am, I ignored all good sense and promptly took the plunge, too eager to move onward to realize the danger I was in. If you feel the need to lash out; go right ahead, but please bash softly = ]  
With that in mind, I hope that you can put my inadequacies aside and enjoy this piece of fan fiction centering around Momiji's troubled relationship with Kusanagi and the inevitability of their love for one another. Kusanagi has run away, and his disappearance from Tokyo has driven Momiji to return to Izumo where she finds her fate being manipulated, and her life threatened; dire circumstances that are, in part, responsible for drawing Kusanagi back into her life.  
Momiji soon learns that their destinies are intertwined and she is charged with the task of helping Kusanagi discover his humanity as a new enemy rises from the Earth, threatening not only mankind, but the Aragami kingdom as well.  
If you like Blue Seed, I hope that you will give this piece of fiction a chance. I tried to write it in the spirit of how I understood the original series to be, and I hope you enjoy reading it!


	2. 1: A Sad Farewell

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER ONE

So much had happened, but so little had changed. Momiji sighed, her breath forming a cloud that quickly dissipated and looked up from the stone cold lunch balanced on her lap to glance around at the empty park. Susano-oh Memorial Park was normally a favorite spot for the residents of Tokyo, but considering it was mid-winter and freezing, it was no wonder that it was virtually deserted.

Except for her, of course, she thought, making a face and kicking herself mentally for acting on the momentary impulse that had led her here. She had tried to reason her way out of coming as she rode the elevator down to the lobby of the lab and crossed to the entrance, but her heart had overruled every single argument. So here she was, bundled up in her wool coat, her nose red with cold and her toes almost completely numb, just so she could be here one last time, the place where she had spent many afternoons with Kusanagi.

Kusanagi.

Overwhelming sadness filled her just thinking about him and she felt her eyes begin to burn knowing that there would be no more afternoons here or anywhere else with him. All because of the agonizing decision she had made a little over a month ago, a decision that she had not wanted to make, but one that, she reminded herself fiercely, was necessary.

"Momiji!" a bright voice echoed across the plaza and Momiji looked up to see one of Miss Matsudaira's interns, and one of her very best friends, Midori Fujisawa hurrying across the cobblestones waving at her.

Momiji pasted a smile onto her face, waved back and packed her uneaten lunch away.

"Miss Matsudaira said that you might be here," Midori bubbled as she came to a restless stop in front of Momiji, too cold to stand still, "though I thought she was joking at first – I mean it _is_ the middle of January, and I thought who would be nutty enough to eat lunch out here! - Then I realized, this is _Momiji_ we're talking about!" She thunked herself in the head and made to sit down, so Momiji slid over to make room for her on the park bench. Midori threw her a wide grin and joked, "A classic Momiji move. For whatever reason, it's only natural for you to want to come here and become a solid block of ice."

"It's become a burning desire of mine to be encased in ice - a silent memorial to unkissed virgins everywhere," Momiji replied with amusement, "TAKE HEED OR THIS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU!" she boomed in ominous accents over Midori's giggles. "I can see it now," she continued in mock tragedy, "young girls would flock to this bench and leave flowers and charms, praying for the gods to intervene, not wishing the same fate to befall them!"

"But what about the spring thaw?" Midori pointed out logically. "I don't think your memorial would survive beyond that."

Momiji's chestnut eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "I hadn't thought that far." Her face fell and she concluded sadly, "I guess that means I should probably give up now, huh?"

"I think it's for the best." Midori's face was solemn as she patted Momiji's shoulder consolingly, but her brown eyes were full of laughter.

"You're probably right."

Momiji broke into a smile and Midori smiled back and they sat in silence for a moment before Midori's expression became more serious.

"You're really going, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

Momiji didn't say anything for a moment, Midori's sadness a reflection of her own. "Yes."

Midori sighed heavily and looked at Momiji's strained profile, knowing how hard this was for her and admiring her strength to break away.

"Have you -" Midori hesitated slightly before continuing, "have you told, Kusanagi?"

Momiji shook her head and looked out over the plaza not wishing to see the pity in Midori's eyes.

"I – I haven't been able to get in touch with him," she stammered.

Midori didn't say anything to that, reaching, instead for Momiji's hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Come on," she said with a tug, "I'll walk you back to the lab."

Momiji nodded numbly and fell into step beside Midori.

How long had it been now? But Momiji knew without having to stop and think. Three months, ten days, six hours, and fourty-five minutes – that's how long it had been since she had been with Kusanagi. He had arrived at the lab and offered to take her home on his motorcycle. He had been silent on the short journey to Mr. Kunikida's house, where Momiji was still living, and once she had clambered off the back of the bike, Kusanagi had wished her an abrupt goodbye and had sped away.

That was the last time they had physically been together, but it had been much longer than that since Momiji had actually _felt_ that they were together. Kusanagi had been distancing himself from her emotionally for some time, and she didn't understand why.

Not that he had ever been that demonstrative with his affections, she reminded herself, which had been a major stumbling block for her. In all the time they had been together, she had been frustrated in her attempts to get physically closer to him, because Kusanagi wouldn't even kiss her, brushing her away with the excuse that she was still a child. So she had had to satisfy herself with holding his hand and giving him a spontaneous hug every now and then.

That was as close as he would allow her to get, but slowly, over the past year, those small signs of affection had stopped too. Whenever she had tried to take his hand, he would tolerate it only for a few short minutes before he would find some excuse to pull away, and he had put an end to the hugs as well. It was like he had a Momiji alarm set in his brain and would manage to turn away whenever he sensed her closing in, effectively blocking any embrace she might have to offer.

His rejection hurt and bewildered her at the same time. She didn't understand why he still came to see her considering all the barriers he had erected. But because of his continued presence she had refused to give up.

She had held out hope until the very day he had disappeared that she might be able to draw him back to her. First she had tried letting her hair grow back to waist length hoping he would notice, (since he hadn't when she had decided to cut it all off) but he'd never said anything about it and it made her want to yank his out strand by strand.

Then, thinking perhaps that was too gradual a change, she decided to try something a bit more drastic. So she had tried changing her wardrobe: shorter skirts, tighter shirts; showing more of her figure than she was really comfortable with – anything to catch his eye. What a disaster that had been!

Everyone else had noticed: raised eyebrows from Ryoko, a small sigh and a shake of the head from Ms. Matsudaira, approvoal from Sakura (_of course_), Mr. Sugishita speaking directly to her breasts whenever he stopped by the lab, and embarrassed, silent disapproval from Mr. Kunikida whose daughter she had become. But as for Kusanagi, not so much as a flicker of response. She could have been wearing a barrel and a paper sack on her head for all the difference it had made.

When that didn't work, she had tried taking an active interest in his photography, the one thing that he had a passion for. Her face burned in misery as she remembered the outcome of that fiasco.

They had been down near the bay and she had been asking one question after another which he had answered patiently if in an absent-minded way. That part had been okay. She'd actually felt that she was making progress, smiling optimistically as he had turned away to get a new roll of film. Feeling more cheerful than she had for ages, she had sidled closer to the tripod to take a look through the lens while he rummaged around for the new roll, and that was when disaster had struck. Tripping over her own two feet, she had gone crashing into the tripod, and had watched, cringing in horror as Kusanagi's camera – his very _expensive_ camera - landed with a crunch against the hard pavement.

Kusanagi hadn't yelled at her, but she'd wished he had. Instead, he had silently packed up all of his things, his mouth set in a thin line, and had taken her home without uttering one single word.

He hadn't let her near his camera after that, and although she couldn't really blame him for that one, the outcome was still the same. The one real opportunity she'd had for getting closer to him was gone for good. Crushed. Just like his poor camera, she thought painfully.

"Well," Midori said in resignation bringing Momiji's thoughts back to the present as they slowed to a stop in front of the TAC Research Facility.

"I'm sorry," Momiji apologized contritely, realizing that she had spent their entire walk in silence.

Midori shook her head. "It's okay, Momiji," she looked down at her hands, "I understand. I just wish –" but whatever it was she wished for remained left unsaid.

Momiji had been the first real friend Midori had made when she had started her internship at the lab. Always awkward and shy, Momiji had taken Midori under her wing and shown her around, shouldering the blame for some of Midori's mistakes until Midori had a better grasp for how things worked. No one ever questioned how the mistakes could be Momiji's since they weren't even in her area of data research. Instead they usually mumbled something like, 'same old Momiji' and with a tolerant look, would hand the papers over to be redone. Midori always felt a little guilty about letting Momiji take the blame, but Momiji would just smile away Midori's objections and take Midori back to her work-station where she would help her correct the errors.

Momiji was thoughtful and kind, and Midori was going to miss her terribly. She would always be Midori's hero.

"This is where we say goodbye I guess," Midori said instead, looking back up at Momiji, her lip trembling a bit, "I have to deliver some papers to the TAC Administrative Office for Ms. Matsudaira."

Momiji's eyes flitted to the leather briefcase hanging by a strap from Midori's shoulder, and then returned to Midori's face. Momiji hated this. She hated seeing the pain and sadness of her friend. She hated having to say goodbye.

She reached out and pulled Midori into a tight hug. "I won't say goodbye," she told her. "I'll be back to see you, I promise," Momiji let her go and stepped back, pinning a bright smile on her face, "and when I get settled into my new place, I want you to come and see me, okay?"

Midori nodded, gave her a watery smile and then walked away. Momiji stayed where she was, a smile still pinned on her face until Midori reached the corner, turned around and waved again. When she was gone, the smile faded and Momiji turned and entered the lab.

She had just gotten back to her desk and taken her coat off when Ms. Matsudaira appeared by her side, some papers in her hand. She motioned for Momiji to sit down, dragging a chair over next to hers.

"I brought you some paperwork," Ms. Matsudaira said, placing the pages on the desk in front of Momiji, "this should help you to get started on your research once you get to Izumo."

Momiji thanked her and picked up the papers, thumbing through them, but not really seeing them. There would be plenty of time for her to look them over once she got to Izumo.

"Would you tell me one more time just what made you decide to return to Izumo, Momiji?" Ms. Matsudaira asked, looking with concern at Momiji's guarded profile.

Momiji's green eyes left the papers with reluctance, not really wanting to meet Matsu's sharp eyes. "Well, I thought that I could do a study comparing Grandma, Mother and myself, since we are all technically Kushinadas –"

"Yes, yes, I know that's what you keep saying," Matsu waved her explanation away with an impatient hand, her brown eyes focused intently on Momiji's face, "but that's not the real reason, is it, Momiji?"

Momij stared mutely at Ms. Matsudaira.

"Do you really think that I am going to believe that this has nothing whatsoever to do with Kusanagi?" she asked knowingly.

As soon as Matsu uttered Kusiagi's name, Momiji averted her gaze back to the papers in her hand and began to fidget uncomfortably, rumpling the sheets beneath her fingers.

"Well," she began, as she shifted the papers, trying desperately to think of something to say that wouldn't be a lie.

Matsu watched Momiji's agitated movements for a few more seconds, then removed the papers from Momiji's hands before she destroyed them completely. Now with nothing else to look at, Momiji was forced to face Matsu again.

"I want the truth Momiji," Matsu ordered.

"I just thought it would be best if I left Tokyo, that's all, " she told the top button on Matsu's coat.

"Why would you think that, Momiji? Your home is here! Kusanagi is here as well –"

"But he's not!" Momiji burst out miserably, "he's not here! He left without a word to anyone and hasn't been here in over three months!"

Momiji stopped speaking, trying to get her emotions back under control.

"He'll be back, Momiji," Matsu assured her gently.

Momiji shook her head. "I don't think he will, Ms. Matsudaira."

"Why would you think that? Did he say that he didn't want to be with you anymore?"

Momiji stayed silent for a moment, her voice sounding hollow when she finally did speak. "When I first met Kusanagi, he wanted nothing more than to be free – free from the Arigami, free from the Kushinada, to do – whatever he wanted - And then things started happening and he was forced to protect me.

"But now that it's – quiet, I think he just wants to be free again. I think that's why he left," Momiji finished, not adding that she thought that this was also the reason why he had never let her get close to him. "I never wanted to be an obligation, Ms. Matsudaira," she continued earnestly, "and if that is all that I am – all that I have become to him, then it's best that I leave."

Matsu stared at the misery in Momiji's face, feeling for her and sighed.

"I think you're wrong, Momiji," she disputed, her voice quiet but firm "I can understand why you feel that way, but I have seen the way Kusanagi sometimes looks at you, and – well, I just think you're wrong."

Matsu continued speaking but Momiji wasn't really listening. Instead she gave Matsu a puzzled look. The way that Kusanagi sometimes looked at her? What did that mean? And when did Kusanagi ever look at her for more that two seconds? Never! Considering all the time and effort she had put into that issue, she thought she should know. But still, she thought uncertainly, what was it that Matsu saw that she didn't? She would ask Matsu about it, she decided, as she once again picked up on the conversation, waiting for the right moment to present itself.

"…my husband looked at me that way. But it isn't important what I think, is it?" Matsu was saying, "I'm not the one in the relationship, you are, so how you feel is most important isn't it?" She paused long enough for Momiji to nod uncertainly before abruptly changing the subject, never allowing Momiji the chance to ask her question.

"As you know the TAC is having a small facility set up for me in Izumo, so I will be coming twice a month for two days at a time to run some tests and help you analyze your data." She pulled out another sheet of paper and handed it to Momiji. "This is my schedule for this month and the coming month. If you notice anything odd or are having problems between visits, contact me and I will come immediately," and then she added as she stood up and moved the chair back to its place, "I'm going to miss you Momiji."

Momiji nodded. "But at least you'll be seeing me in Izumo."

Matsu simply said, "It's not the same." She offered Momiji a smile and wished her a safe trip before turning to go.

"Tell Jun I said hello," Momiji called after her and then swiveled her chair around to look at the schedule Matsu had set.

The rest of the workday flew, several of Momiji's coworkers stopping by to wish her good luck. The time had gone so quickly that with a jolt she realized she had less than an hour to pack up all the things she would be taking with her and still make her train. She bounded to her feet, her chair sharply thrust backwards as she bent to look under her desk for the box she had remembered to put there earlier in the week. She had barely put her head under the desk when the metal casters of the chair collided with someone's toes.

"Ouch!"

Startled by the exclamation, Momiji straightened up to look around and forgot that her head was partially under her desk. BANG!

"Ouch!" she cried rubbing the crown of her head and she turned around to see Mr. Sugishita grinning at her.

"I thought that was my line," he remarked.

Her head still smarting, she gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that," she said, looking at his toes before turning to pull out the box and put it on top of her desk. "I was just getting ready to pack up my thing." She pointed to the box.

Mr. Sugishita nodded. "That's why I dropped by. Just wanted to say goodbye and see if you needed any help with the move."

"That was awfully nice of you," Momiji replied, "but Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko are helping me."

"Oh, that's good," he replied, then spent a few minutes chatting before casually inquiring, "how's Ryoko doing by the way?"

Momiji hid her smile. Mr. Sugishita had always had a thing for Ryoko Takeuchi, now Ryoko Kunikida, and although she knew he had moved on, he always managed to ask about her whenever he saw Momiji.

"She's doing good. She and Mr. Kunikida are celebrating their third wedding anniversary next week – "

"Oh really? That's great!" he replied heartily before looking at his watch and exclaiming, "will you look at that! I'm going to be late! " He backed up toward the hall. "Got a hot date!" he whispered and gave her a devilish grin before waving and turning to stroll jauntily down the hall.

Momiji watched him with amusement until he was gone, then glanced absent-mindedly at the clock after he left.

"Oh, crap!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in consternation. She now had less than forty-five minutes to catch her train.

Momiji started throwing things one after the other into the box as fast as she could, knowing that she was probably going to forget something important. She would worry about it later, she told herself.

With literally just seconds to spare, Momiji lumbered breathlessly onto the train before the doors closed. It was crowded, as usual and she had left the lab too late to be able to get a seat, so she stood, box in hand, sandwiched between a businessman who smelled like a stale cigar and a woman holding a toddler with a sticky looking face and even stickier looking fingers.

Momiji shifted her weight onto one foot to maintain her balance as the train jolted into motion and tried to adjust the heavy box in her arms so that it wouldn't dig into her arms so badly. No good, she thought grimacing, the box was just too heavy. Perhaps if the train hadn't been so crowded, she could have set it on the floor, but there wasn't even any room to do that, so she was stuck until she arrived at the station. Momiji frowned heavily at that, but immediately changed it to a smile when she noticed the toddler, a little girl, was looking at her over her mother's shoulder, staring with fixed interest at Momijis long hair. Momiji was about to say hello when she heard her cell phone ring and she groaned aloud instead.

The phone was in her purse, which was slung over her shoulder; almost impossible to get at while she had the box in her arms. Maybe, she mused, if she turned sideways and shifted the box to one hip, she might be able to dig in her purse with her free hand. It worked, but now the corner of the box was digging into her stomach, so it was with a strained 'hello' that she greeted the caller on the other end.

"Momiji, is that you?"

"Kome?" Momiji responded, squeezing the phone between her head and shoulder so that she could grasp the box with both hands before she dropped it.

"Hey, kiddo! For a minute there, it didn't sound like you."

"Well, I'm on the train on my way h- Ouch!" she cried sharply as she felt a cruel tug on the back of her head, "home," she managed to say, wincing as she felt another strong pull that made tears stand out in her eyes.

When she had turned sideways, she must have put her hair within grabbing vicinity of the little girl, Momiji realized, drawing in a sharp breath as another heavy tug yanked her head backwards.

"What was that?" Kome inquired.

"N-nothing," Momiji said, trying to sidle sideways and get her head out of harm's way, but to no avail. The toddler had a fistful of hair and wasn't letting go.

"I wanted to be able to see you before you left, Momiji, but they have me out on assignment right now." Momiji could hear the regret in Kome's voice. "I haven't even been able to get home to see Yoshiki."

"Y-yes, he came by yesterday to say goodbye and mentioned that you and he had planned on coming together, but there was something big that you were working on."

"Yeah," Kome said, her voice sounded a little odd, "I wish I could tell you, but – it's pretty weird, Momiji. You be careful when you get to Izumo, kiddo, you hear me?" she demanded, "there's been –"

Kome hesitated, and Momiji listened intently, sensing that Kome was troubled about something. But either Momiji was wrong or Kome changed what she was going to say, because her next words caught Momiji completely off guard.

"Have you heard from Plant Boy?"

"Wha? No. Nothing"

"I really wish he would come back," Kome mumbled mostly to herself and then louder, "look, Momiji, if you see him before you leave, why don't you ask him to go with you?"

Momiji's mouth fell open in shock. What on earth had gotten into Kome? Kome was well aware of the strife between Momiji and Kusanagi. She had even threatened bodily harm to Kusanagi on Momiji's behalf. So why was she acting so odd?

"Kome, have you forgotten that I'm leaving tomorrow? Kusanagi's been gone for over three months now, so do you really think that he would suddenly show up now? And even if he did, I couldn't ask him to come with me when all he's been trying to do is get away from me!"

After a moment of stilted silence, Kome replied diffidently, unwilling to let it drop, "I know all that, but Momiji, I wouldn't suggest it unless… there was a good reason."

Momiji stared at the train door, not really seeing it, completely mystified by her friend's behavior.

"I – can't, Kome," Momiji finally said. "Even if he came back, I couldn't ask him. I will not be an obligation to him anymore," she vowed empatically, echoing the words she had spoken earlier to Ms. Matsudaira.

Kome sighed. "Okay, kiddo. Maybe I'll ask him myself –"

"YOU WILL NOT!" Momiji yelled into the phone.

"Okay, okay! I was just kidding! Of course I wouldn't ask him. What? Do you think I'm _that_ crazy?" Kome paused and Momiji could hear someone talking to her. It was a man's voice, but Momiji couldn't hear what was being said. "Look, Momiji, I gotta go. You just promise to be careful, okay?"

"You know I will," Momiji assured her and wished her friend goodbye, stuffing the phone into her coat pocket.

The little girl tugged hard on Momiji's hair one more time, but Momiji barely noticed it, too caught up in her thoughts about Kome's bizarre request.

By the time Momiji got home, she had a raging headache and bruises on her arms from squeezing the box so hard. Ryoko and Mr. Kunikida still weren't home, but there was a message on the answering machine from Mr. Kunikida. They had been called away to Hokkaido and wouldn't be back until some time tomorrow.

"I'm sorry, Momiji. Ryoko and I were planning on taking you out to dinner," Mr. Kunikida's gruff voice told her as she finished listening to the message, "But I promise we'll be home tomorrow in plenty of time to help you finish your move…"

"Looks like I'm on my own," Momiji sighed as she shrugged out of her coat and shoes and padded to the kitchen.

She turned on the lights as she went trying to drive out the darkness that only served to remind her of her solitude. It was dinner time, but she wasn't really hungry, so she just put some water on to boil, planning to make a cup of tea instead. She stared at the kettle, her mind full of the move, and Kusanagi. Even though she had been without him already, the ache she was feeling inside was just as fresh as it had been the first day she had realized he was gone.

Momiji turned away from the stove and tried to push her thoughts aside. She went upstairs to the bathroom to take some aspirin for her head, and then to her room to change her clothes. She put on her favorite pair of jeans but left her sweater on, since it kept her warm. After a couple of steps towards her bedroom door, she turned back to her closet to get a belt. Her jeans were too loose and she was in serious danger of stepping on them and tripping if she didn't use a belt to hold them up. She had lost a lot of weight over the past three months, she observed as she tightened her belt one notch tighter since the last time she had worn these jeans, which had only been a couple of weeks ago.

Momiji went back to the kitchen and finished making her tea. She carried her mug to the table and sat down. She stared out the window and sipped her tea, her oppressive thoughts her only company. She sat there for a few minutes more and then pushed away from the table returning to the living room to get her shoes and coat. Perhaps she could clear her head if she got some fresh air, she though as she buttoned up her coat.

Momiji stepped out onto the back deck and paused as the cold air rushed against her face. It had gotten a lot colder since the sun had gone down, but she didn't care. She shoved her hands in her pockets, her fingers curling around the cell phone she had forgotten to return to her purse, and climbed down the stairs to walk in the yard. The moon was full, and the light from the kitchen windows spilled across the lawn, driving back the darkness and providing just enough light to keep her from tripping and falling flat on her face because of the garden rake Mr. Kunikida had left lying in the yard. She bent down, picked up the rake and leaned it against the deck before moving farther away from the house.

Momiji strolled slowly toward the trees where the shadows were deeper, her fingers tightening on the phone as a thought began forming in her brain. She stopped and took the phone from her pocket as she reached the trees and dialed Kusanagi's phone number. She didn't expect him to be there, and she had already left him several messages, but she had never left a message telling him goodbye.

Just as she'd expected the answering machine picked up and while she waited for the beep, she struggled to think of the right words to say.

"K-kusanagi, it's me," she said breathlessly, "Momiji. I –" she stopped, the words stuck in her throat. "I know that I've left you several messages already, b-but there's something I haven't… something I should…" she was making a muddle of it, she realized, listening to herself. Momiji stared at the bark on the tree in front of her in consternation. This was even harder than she thought it would be.

"There's something I need to tell you," she finally managed to say.

"What?"

Momiji stopped, her body stiffening in shock. "What?" she ehoed, still staring at the tree.

"I said, what is it you need to tell me," the voice replied, closer this time, right behind her.

Momiji turned slowly, her green eyes staring in astonishment into the cat-like eyes of Kusanagi. She stood there gaping at him in disbelief, the phone still clutched to her ear. She felt a bevy of emotions flood over her, each reflected in her face.

Kusanagi watched her in amusement as her expression went through rapid changes and wondered what emotion she would finally settle on. He was surprised and somewhat taken aback to see that it was sadness.

"Kusanagi. You're really here," she said in a numb way.

Kusanagi reached out and took the phone still pressed to Momiji's ear and turned it off before handing it back to her. She took it from him and stared blindly at it .

"What was it that you wanted to tell me," Kusanagi prompted her again and was surprised by the flash of irritation in Momiji's eyes.

She turned away from him to face the trees again, fuming. She couldn't believe him! He'd been gone for over three months and then he shows up out of the blue without so much as a 'hello' or 'how've you been, Momiji?' Instead he had the gall to stand there looking like a magazine ad for blue jeans watching her flounder in confusion. It wasn't fair!

"Momiji, you've go –" he began.

"I don't believe you!" she said at the same time and then, "OWW!" It felt like he was ripping her hair out. She rounded on him, glaring. "Mamoru Kusanagi!! What do you think you're doing?!" she demanded.

Kusanagi took a step back and put his hands up defensively. "I wasn't doing anything. You've got something stuck in your hair. I was just trying to get it out."

"Oh." She felt stupid.

Of course there was a reason he had pulled her hair. Duuhhh! She put her hand to the back of her head, running it down the length of her chestnut hair until her fingers snagged on a wad of hair wound around something sticky. She tried pulling it free but it was stuck really good

Kusanagi watched her struggle silently for a few seconds and then stepped around her. "Here," he said, and she could hear his amusement, "let me help."

So she stood still while he worked to free whatever it was that clung so tenaciously to her hair.

"There!" he said triumphantly after a few more tugs, "I finally got it!" and held it out for her to see. "What I want to know is how you got a sucker stuck in your hair," he chuckled as she took the sucker from him, and added with a grin "or better yet, how you could get a sucker stuck in your hair and _not _know it!"

He could see her face turning red even in the feeble moonlight, and his grin widened.

His amusement died though, when Momiji didn't laugh. She had a right to be angry with him, but he sensed something else.

"What is it, that you wanted to tell me, Momiji?" he asked again, feeling instinctively that that was where the trouble was stemming from.

"I'm leaving, Kusanagi," she told him without preamble.

"Leaving?"

"Yes. I decided to go back to Izumo while you were gone." She replied baldly. She waited for him to say something and when he didn't she continued, "I think I know why you went away, Kusanagi – and I don't want you to feel obligated to me anymore."

"Is that so?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded and tried to see his expression, but he was standing too far in the shadows for her to be able to see his face clearly.

"I wanted – want - you to feel… free," she continued, feeling thoroughly miserable now, "so I thought – if I went back to Izumo that you wouldn't have to go away…" her voice petered out as Kusanagi began to laugh.

It was a hard laugh, devoid of warmth, and it made Momiji cringe hearing it.

"Why are you laughing?" she asked, disturbed by his reaction.

He stopped abruptly and moved further into the shadows, his voice, when it came was just as hard and abrupt. "No reason. No reason at all." He was silent for a moment and then asked, "when are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"I see," was all he said.

"Kusanagi-" she began, taking a step towards him, but he cut her off by turning away.

He gave another short, humorless laugh.

"Well, I guess there's nothing left to say, then," he told her over his shoulder. And when she didn't reply, "Goodbye, Momiji."

And then he was gone, leaving her staring after him, feeling more alone than ever.


	3. 2: CRASH!

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWO

Kusanagi opened the window of his apartment and climbed through. Usually, he would come in like any other person - any _normal_ person – to avoid any awkward questions. But he was in too much of a foul mood to care if anyone saw him or not. He slid his legs across the casement, slammed the window shut and without turning on any of the lights, crossed the room to his bed. He slumped across it, putting his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

_"I'm leaving,"_ Momiji had said. Kusanagi's lips curled into a bitter smile. How ironic, he thought, rolling on to his side, his eyes wandering around the darkened room. Everything was as neat as usual. Not an ounce of dust anywhere, he thought idly, but since he had no personal mementoes for dust to cling to, it really wasn't all that surprising. It was like he had never been gone. Or like he had never lived here at all.

He could have walked away from this place forever and never have missed a thing. Except for his camera, his portfolio and – leaning over the edge of his bed, he reached underneath it to pull out a square, leather box – _this_. Actually, he admitted reluctantly to himself, he could have left his camera and his portfolio behind because those could easily be replaced. But not this, he thought. With one arm he pushed himself up and sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling the box closer and taking the lid off.

_"I don't want you to feel obligated to me anymore."_

As he sifted through the contents of the box, he could still picture the honesty shining so earnestly from her eyes when she had uttered those words. If she only knew, he thought derisively, as he finally found what he was looking for and stared down at it with haunted eyes. She was right about his feeling obligated, though. She probably even knew that it was obligation that had driven him away. But the reason behind the obligation, and why he had been forced to flee - for there was no getting around the fact that he had been running away – of that, she had no clue. She thought he felt an obligation to protect her. He knew that only too well. And he let her believe it, for it was better to let her believe it. But the truth was, from the moment she had stepped in front of Orochi to take the blow meant for Kusanagi, a man she hadn't known, and a man who had wanted nothing more than her death, he had known that he would protect her with everything he was. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. To him that wasn't an obligation. Not even close. The obligation he felt lay in the need to protect Momiji from himself.

Kusanagi knew that he was too different to ever be a real part of her life, that by his very existence, he was a freak of nature; only half-human. And so he felt obligated to distance himself from her. But the number of times he had promised himself that he would stop seeing her was eclipsed by the number of times he had given in to his desire just to be near her, whether she was aware of his presence of not. And because of that, he had run away, thinking that perhaps distance would make it easier to maintain his obligation. Yet here he was back in Tokyo.

Agitation drove Kusanagi from the bed to prowl restlessly around the room, until he reached the window where he came to a standstill staring with anger and hatred at the image of the face that was reflected back at him.

There was nothing normal about his appearance. Cat-like eyes set below four eyebrows that were dark green, the same color as his hair, and skin that had a dark bronze cast to it – _orange_ was a better description, he thought critically. And the mitamas, he reminded himself, not that he could ever forget about the mitamas. The curse of his existence, and yet they defined who he was. If not for them, he would be human. If not for them, he would feel no obligation to stay away.

"I want you to feel free…"

Momiji's final words mocked him. Kusanagi put his long fingers over his eyes and rubbed, feeling insane laughter bubble to the surface. He wanted to be free too, for even shackled as he was by the blue seeds that had shaped his life, he was finding it harder and harder to resist his fascination with her, making his life a living hell.

He should be glad she was going, he told himself. He should feel relieved that she had taken the burden of temptation away by leaving. But he didn't feel that way at all…

Momiji stared out of the back window of Mr. Kunikida's sedan. It was a perfect day. The sun was shining, the winter sky, a pale blue, and even the temperature was considerably mild for January. The ideal day for a move. But it would be more appropriate, or so Momiji thought, if it were raining hellfire and brimstone. The end of the world;, a drastic thought, but that's what it felt like to her.

After Kusanagi had left last night, she had gone upstairs, unable to sleep for the hard knot of misery that had settled in the middle of her chest, as their final scene replayed over and over again in her mind. Momiji listened with half an ear to Ryoko talking in low accents to her husband and tried to get a grip on her emotions. She would always love Kusanagi, was going to miss him terribly, but she was going to have to stop wallowing in self-pity and get on with her life, she told herself. Kusanagi deserved to be free, and she had set him free. That was what was important!

"You know, you don't have to do this, Momiji," Mr. Kunikida said abruptly, breaking into Momiji's thoughts.

Momiji met his gaze through the rear view mirror and replied quietly, "I know, but it's time for me to go back."

"You're too young to be living on your own!" he replied grumpily.

"Daitetsu!" Ryoko cast Momiji an apologetic look, "Momiji is an adult now."

"Nineteen is NOT an adult," he ground out.

"_Daitetsu!_" Ryoko admonished, "stop it!"

Mr. Kunikida's ruddy cheeks flooded with temper, making him look decidedly ferocious as he muttered heavily under his breath, and Momiji gave Ryoko a look of understanding. Kaede had been his daughter, and she occupied a special place in Mr. Kunikida's heart, but then, so did Momiji, and she knew that he would always feel a paternal protectiveness towards her.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Kunikada finally managed, "forgive me, Momiji. I didn't mean to imply that you aren't a capable young lady. It's just…" He seemed to be struggling to find the right words so Momiji tried to reassure him.

"It's okay, Mr. Kunikida, I understand. And I know that you believe in me. It was you, after all, who gave me the opportunity to work with you and all the others at the TAC. If you hadn't believed in me, then I wouldn't be where I am now."

Ryoko smiled gratefully at Momiji, knowing how testy her husband could get.

Mr. Kunikida didn't say anything for a few minutes and so the car fell silent, but he eventually addressed Momiji again, his tone less grumpy but gruff nonetheless.

"You know that we – Ryoko and I - love you, Momiji," he waited for her nod and then continued, "and we just want you to know that we'll always be here for you if you need us. You'll always have a home with us."

"You and Ryoko have done so much for me," Momiji responded with difficulty, her voice trembling with suppressed emotions, "and I love you guys too, but –" she stopped unable to go on and looked out the window, swallowing back the tears.

Ryoko looked over at her husband, distressed. "This is so hard for her," she murmured so Momiji couldnt hear. "I don't understand what happened between her and Kusanagi, but. – well, let's not make this any harder for her than it already is."

Daitetsu nodded.

"I talked to your mother yesterday before we left for Hokkaido," Mr. Kunikida remarked, bowing to his wife's wishes by changing the subject. "She said that the restoration of the cave is almost finished."

"Really?" Momiji was proud at how normal she managed to sound. "I didn't think that they would be able to restore it so quickly."

Actually, she had thought that it couldn't be restored at all. After Susano-oh's last ritual, it had caved in completely and no one had attempted to clear the debris. But once she had started talking about returning to Izumo to begin studying the Kushinada, Ms. Matsudaira had suggested that she might want to take up her ritual of purification again, to see what affects it might have on her biologically.

"Yes," Mr. Kunikida responded, "the workman that we hired have worked round the clock to have it ready for your return."

Momiji's face turned red "You make it sound like they're expecting royalty," she laughed.

"Well," Ryoko said, winking at her, "you are royalty. You're the Princess Kushinada!"

"But the aragami are all sleeping," except for Kusanagi, "so I think that title is wearing a little thin now, don't you?"

"Never!" Ryoko teased. "I think you should put it on all your business cards, don't you, Daitetsu."

Mr Kunikida just grunted while Ryoko and Momiji laughed.

"By the way, what were you guys doing in Hokkaido yesterday. You never did tell me why you went," Momiji observed and was immediately struck by the change that came over Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko as they exchanged an uneasy glance.

"It wasn't really anything too important. Some local officials in Sappora have had a string of rabid animal attacks," Ryoko replied, choosing her words carefully, "and since we have such an extensive database, they wanted our professional opinion as to what type of animal it was so they could issue an alert to the local townspeople." As she finished speaking she slid a questioning glance over to Daitetsu who gave a slight nod of approval.

Momiji appeared to accept the explanation without further question and the conversation moved on. Not long after that, they pulled up in front of a small house just purchased a few weeks ago. This was to be Momiji's new home as she resumed her life in Izumo.

Moe, Momiji's mother was standing with Momiji's grandmother by the trunk of a little silver car parked in the drive. They waved as Mr. Kunikida's sedan pulled into the drive.

"I didn't know you had gotten a new car, Mom," Momiji said as she gave her mother and grandmother a hug in greeting.

"I didn't," Moe responded and then turned to Mr. Kunikida and handed him a set of keys. "They delivered it this morning, just like you wanted."

Momiji looked from her mother to Mr. Kunikida in confusion. "This is your car?"

Mr. Kunikida shook his head and walked over to Momiji and handed her the keys. "No. It's yours."

Everyone was smiling at her, waiting for her to say something, but Momiji just stared at Mr. Kunikida completely dumbfounded. She stayed silent so long that Moe began to wonder if she hadn't understood what Mr. Kunikida had said.

"Momiji?" her mother said uncertainly.

Momiji didn't appear to hear her. Instead she threw herself at Mr. Kunikida, who looked surprised, and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back just as tightly.

"So you can come and see us anytime you want," was all he said when Momiji tried to thank him.

Mr. Kunikida helped Momiji unload the rest of her things from his car, which wasn't a lot, since most of her belongings had already been brought down the weekend before. They spent the rest of the afternoon together talking about different things but nothing truly important before Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko returned to Tokyo. It wasn't an easy goodbye for anyone, but it was made easier by the fact that Momiji knew she could now go see them anytime she felt like it.

After they were gone, Moe offered to stay and help Momiji unpack some of her boxes. Momiji thanked her, but declined. She wanted to do it herself. It would keep her busy and wouldn't allow her much time to think of Kusanagi.

The next two weeks that followed were busy ones for Momiji, but she learned early on that no matter how busy she was, Kusanagi was still in her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to squeeze him out. It didn't help matters either that the first time she had met Akiko, her old school friend, for lunch, her first question had been about Kusanagi. Momiji had given her some vague response, not wanting to tell her the truth, which had been a mistake, because Akiko kept bringing him up.

Ms. Matsudaira, too, had seemed intent on reminding Momiji of Kusanagi when she had arrived for her first official visit, just yesterday.

"So have you heard from Kusanagi yet? " Ms. Matsudaira had asked her.

"No," Momiji had replied edgily, wanting the topic to end.

"That's strange. I could have sworn that Midori told me – " Matsu had muttered, and then waved it off, "never mind."

But now Momiji was burning to know what Midori had told Matsu about Kusanagi

"What? What did Midori tell you?" Momiji demanded, all of her attention focused on Matsu.

Matsu turned away and hid a smile.

"It's just that Midori mentioned to me that Kusanagi had been by to see her several times over the last couple of weeks. He even took her home one evening."

"He did?" Momiji's eyebrows had risen in alarm, and even now her stomach knotted up just thinking about it.

Midori and Kusanagi? Oh, god, the thought of them together would kill her! Momiji shifted restlessly, and tried to push her disturbing thoughts away and concentrate on what she was doing.

She was at the iwatto making a survey for Ms. Matsudaira and she still had to get the rock and water samples that Ms. Matsudaira had wanted analyzed. Momiji looked at her watch. It was getting late and she had promised her mother that she would have dinner with her tonight. If she didn't get her mind on what she was doing she wasn't going to have enough time to go home and change beforehand.

Momiji kneeled down, the damp stone immediately chilling her knees, and opened the metal case she had brought with her. Taking out several vials, Momiji went over to the still water of the pool, and, working quickly, drew up several samples from different points, labeling them according to where they had been drawn. The rock samples were a little more time consuming requiring her to use a sharp pick. After a bit of hard work, though, she was able to chisel out four or five different samples, again from different areas. Putting the samples back in the case, she closed it and climbed the steps to the entrance of the iwatto.

Momiji stepped out into the daylight, and a chill of foreboding swept through her. It was so strong that she stopped and looked around, almost expecting to see something out of place. The wind suddenly picked up. It swirled around her, cutting into her cheeks and blowing her hair into her eyes, momentarily blinding her. Momiji hurriedly pushed the long strands aside to scan the line of barren trees, looking for whatever it was she had sensed.

Her eyes told her there was nothing. All was silent, and even the wind had ceased, but still she felt it, unable to ignore the heaviness of its presence pressing in on her.

Momiji tightened her hand on the handle of the metal case and set off down the path through the trees, her green eyes focused on the path around her, looking for any sign of movement.

The afternoon had become overcast, and the gloom of the clouds and the coming evening settled around her making her wish that she hadn't spent so much time in the iwatto. Momiji quickened her steps, wanting to reach her car as soon as she could.

And then she heard it and her head snapped around.

"Ku – shi - nada."

Momiji stopped moving, her green eyes widening as she strained to hear, but there was nothing but the sound of her fast breathing. A fine mist started to fall, hanging in the air around her like an ephemeral wraith and Momiji turned to look back up at the mouth of the cave, now enshrouded eerily in white. She didn't know what she'd expected to see, but there was no one there. The feeling of foreboding was gone now, too, except for the memory of it, which served as a shadow that followed Momiji all the way down the path to her car.

For once, Kusanagi was pushed completely from Momiji's mind. She mulled over what had happened at the iwatto as she dropped the samples off at the lab and drove home. By the time she had pulled up in front of her house, she had convinced herself that it had been her overactive imagination hard at work. After all, this was the first time she had returned to the iwatto since Susano-oh had gone to sleep, and she had witnessed so much happen there, that it seemed only natural she would feel a little odd seeing it again. She was sure that the next time she went, that it would be completely different.

There was a message for Momiji on her answering machine when she got in. She took off her coat and flung it over the sofa as she pushed the button to listen to the message and felt her heart flop into her shoes.

"Hi, Momiji! It's me, Midori," piped the message, "I've been meaning to call you, but they have had me working really late at the lab. Listen… I really need to talk to you about Kusanagi. It's kinda' important, so call me as soon as you can, okay?"

The machine beeped signaling the end of the message, and Momiji stood watching its little red light blink. With a deep breath she picked up the phone and then quickly put it down again, biting her lip in indecision. Could she really do this? She felt sure that Midori was going to tell her that Kusanagi had asked her out and Midori was calling to ask what she should do. Should she tell her that it was okay? That Midori should go out with him? _Could_ she tell Midori that it was okay?

Not likely! Kusanagi was hers!

But you relinquished your claim to him, didn't you?, a little voice reminded her.

"Kusanagi," she mumbled peevishly, "I wanted you to be free – but couldn't you at least be girl free, too?"

At least until she got used to the idea of him being with someone else, anyway - which would be never, of course. Momiji hovered near the phone for a moment longer and then she stepped back.

Coward! her conscience screamed, but she just ignored it.

Turning on her heel, she climbed the stairs to change her clothes for dinner. She would call Midori when she got back from her mom's house, she told herself. As she pulled on her sweatshirt, still thinking about Midori's phone call, she forced herself to be more optimistic. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought it was, she reasoned, and if it was… Well, at least this way it wouldn't spoil her dinner.

"Where's Grandma?" Momiji asked as she and her mother sat down to eat.

"She wasn't feeling well, so she decided to go to bed early."

Momiji's brow wrinkled in concern and she made to get up from the table. "Maybe I should go and check on her. I could bring her some soup or something."

Moe put out a staying hand and Momiji reluctantly sat back down. "She's already eaten," Moe told her, "and besides, you'll just wake her up. It's this weather. The damp always makes her bones ache."

Momiji nodded and they resumed eating, Moe watching as Momiji mostly just pushed her food around her plate. Momiji helped her mother with the dishes and then they went into the living room and sat down.

"You've lost a lot of weight, Momiji."

"I have?" Momiji responded, not that she didn't already know it, but thinking that if she played ignorant, she might avoid a lot of unwanted questions.

"Where's Kusanagi?"

Leave to Mom to cut right to the heart of the matter, Momiji thought , wincing.

"Ummm. I guess he's in Tokyo." Momiji responded evasively, leaning forward and flipping open the picture album sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"I would have thought I would have seen him by now. He never seems to be very far away from wherever you are." Her mother commented watching her closely.

Momiji snorted, a heavy frown settling across her face, and thought about the last three months of her life.

"He left, Mom," Momiji said flatly, her green eyes flashing, "for three months. Without a word. He just vanished." Momiji kept flipping through the picture album staring down at the glossy images of familiar people and places, wondering how many more times she was going have to tell this story.

"That's why I decided to come home." The fire in her eyes suddenly died out. "It hurt too much to stay knowing that all he wanted was to get away from me. Besides," she continued woodenly, "he never really showed that much interest in me anyway."

"You don't really believe that do you?" Moe asked, incredulously.

"What else am I supposed to believe?" Momiji demanded, her voice rising an octave, "he wouldn't even kiss me, Mom!"

Momiji's face burned bright red, feeling embarrassed about sharing with her mother the sordid details, or in her case, the lack of sordid details surrounding her love life.

"And those are your reasons for believing that he wasn't interested in you?"

Moe pulled the album from the table away from Momiji and settled it onto her lap. She began turning the pages while she waited for Momiji to answer her.

Momiji stared at her mother like she had lobsters crawling out of her ears. "What more proof do I need, Mom? He never gave me any indication to believe otherwise."

'Ahhh, but I believe he did, Momiji. You just have to open your eyes to see it."

As she spoke, Moe handed the photo album to Momiji.

She pointed to a picture that Momiji had never seen before, even though Momiji recognized the setting clearly. It was a picture from last year's New Year's Eve celebration at a downtown Tokyo hotel. Everyone from the TAC had been there as well as a few others, including Kusanagi and her mother. Momiji remembered the evening very clearly, recalling how painstakingly she had prepared for the party, wanting desperately to see Kusanagi look at her with something other than his usual friendly detachment.

She had gone shopping weeks in advance just to find the right clothes, and found what she had been looking for in an expensive little boutique. It was an off the shoulder emerald green velvet dress. Momiji had thought that the color had enhanced the green of her eyes and brought out the rich color of her hair, so she had paid the hefty asking price without blinking, thinking that if it could help her get Kusanagi's attention, it would be well worth the money she had paid for it.

She had had such high hopes, taking several hours to get ready for the evening. She had even gone so far as to jab into her skull one hundred and one hair pins just to achieve the right hairstyle. And then Kusanagi had called and said that his bike wasn't working and he couldn't come to pick her up but would meet her there. So she had arrived at the hotel with Ryoko and Mr. Kunikida and had waited for Kusanagi.

The evening was half over before Kusanagi had arrived, but still she hadn't given up, hoping, as she had watched him cross the room, that when he finally saw her, she would see a spark of interest in his eyes.

But, alas, he had said nothing, had barely even looked at her and she had been devastated. Feeling the tears close to the surface, Momiji had fled out onto the balcony to look out over the city, while Kusanagi leaned against the door, half in, half out of the room, not really paying much attention to anything. Or at least that was how she remembered it. But that was not what this picture showed.

This was a picture of that very event, in the background Momiji leaning against the balcony, her shoulders gleaming white from the flash of the camera, and in the foreground Kusanagi, but a very different Kusanagi than the one she remembered.

As Momiji gazed at the picture, she felt her heart turn over in her chest at the look on Kusanagi's face. In this picture, he wasn't just gazing idly about like she thought he had been He was watching her. His face had such an intensity to it. What was it that she was seeing? Longing? Wistfulness? Sorrow? Momiji wasn't sure how to describe it, but she was sure of one thing. His expression as he gazed at her was far from being indifferent.

Matsu's words came back to her as she stared down at Kusanagi's face. _"I've seen the way Kusanagi looks at you sometimes…"_

Is this what Matsu meant? This expression? And if it was, how come Momiji had never seen it for herself?

Momiji looked up at her mother, feeling helpless and confused. "But why? If this is… why would he go away?"

"Sometimes, things are not as simple as we would like for them to be, Momiji. Kusanagi is not a simple man, but I think that in the end, he will always come back to you."

Momiji put her hand to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut. Her thoughts were crowding in one on top of another and she couldn't think. Feeling suddenly tired and emotionally spent, she wanted to go home. No. What she really wanted was to go back to Tokyo, to see Kusanagi. But she couldn't. He had shut her out completely when she had told him she was leaving and now she was afraid to go back. Afraid to find out that the picture she held in her hand was just an illusion and that the truth was that he didn't want her anymore.

Moe watched the myriad of emotions flitting across Momiji's face and wasn't surprised when, a few minutes later Momiji made her excuses and left to go home. Momiji kissed her mother goodbye and bundled up in her coat.

The rain was coming down in earnest now, and Momiji squinted, straining to see through the veil of water cascading down the windshield. How she hated driving in the rain!

It was waiting. There, in the darkness. He could feel it. He knew of its hunger and knew that he had no choice but to try and stop it. He had been watching it since its birth, watched it when it had died and then witnessed its subsequent rebirth into something fouler than it had been before.

It was cold, unused to the rain, but its hunger would not be denied and so it persisted in its vigil, determined not to fail this time. It had stalked her earlier and he had been unaware until it was almost too late. But still he had managed to stop it, driving it away in fright.

He had known that it would return, though. He knew that it sensed the great energy that flowed from its prey and he knew that fear alone was not enough to drive it away completely. It would not be long now, so he moved closer. He must be close enough to draw blood this time, so that it would find a different hunting ground.

He knew that it would die if he allowed it its kill. Its instincts were unable to comprehend the power that it craved was also a power to protect, and in striking, it would fall victim to its own hunger.

And as much as he wished to see it die, he would stop it, for its quarry was irreplaceable. But he must do something more than even this, for he knew that it would grow in power with each new victim and his own power was limited in his current state. Yes, he thought, he needed to put his plan into action. Soon the dreamer would awaken and he needed to ensure the dreamer's safety.

Looking into the darkness, he waited, just as it waited, knowing that she was the key to protecting the dreamer. He had called upon her before and had laid a heavy burden upon her. And now he would do so again, but he knew that she was strong. He would be counting on that strength and the strength of her protector as well, for without them, their worlds would perish, laid to waste by the evil that had been reborn.

Momiji was half way home when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She was being watched. She could feel it.

That's impossible, she argued with herself. There weren't any cars behind her, and only occasionally did she see the glare of headlights from cars passing her, going in the opposite direction.

But the sensation wouldn't be ignored. In fact it was getting stronger with every passing moment, and Momiji felt the panic begin to rise. She thought about turning around and going back to her mother's house but screamed instead as a bolt of energy shot across the road. It illuminated everything around it with its bright blue hue as it streaked from one side of the road to the other. Momiji heard what sounded like the roar of thunder and from the corner of her eye, she saw something massive streaking away from the light, retreating into the darkness of the sheltering trees.

The road in front of her glowed blue, and as her car steadily approached it, the light, instead of dispersing, began to retract, the edges folding in on itself until the center of it was so bright it hurt her eyes. From the center of the light a darker mass was born, coalescing into the figure of a man dressed in priest's robes wearing an eboshi pulled low over his face.

He appeared so quickly, that Momiji had little time to react. She slammed on her brakes to avoid hitting him and her car skidded wildly into the other lane where the bright headlights of an oncoming car blinded her.

Momiji screamed as the car swerved, and she missed colliding with it as her car continued skidding sideways until she was off the road.

Dimly she heard the crunch of metal as her car collided with a tree, and she was thrown forward. The rusty taste of blood filled her mouth and it felt like someone was squeezing all the air out of her lungs. Her body was on fire and Momiji struggled to breathe, but could hardly seem to draw in any air. The bright light she had seen earlier surrounded her and Momiji tried to focus on its source. With great effort she managed to turn her head and saw the priest quietly standing next to her car door, looking down at her from beneath the eboshi

No! Her mind shouted in denial. This couldn't be happening!

Still she couldn't breathe, and she felt the blood trickle from her mouth and down her chin. I am going to die, she thought, dimly aware that the priest had stepped closer to the car and had opened the door. The pain in her body intensified, her vision clouding over as the priest's hand reached for her and she lost consciousness.

The man was tired. His meeting had run late, and now he just wanted to be home with his wife and family. He ran a hand through his hair, his whole body drooping with fatigue and then stiffened as the headlights of his car picked out the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the other lane.

"What the hell!?!" he cursed as he slammed on his breaks and swerved to miss the little car that had veered onto his side of the road to avoid hitting the pedestrian. He managed to keep his car on the road, but watched in horror as the little grey car was smashed into a twisted heap of metal as it collided with a towering oak tree.

He slammed his car in reverse and went back, pulling to the side of the road near the accident and saw the pedestrian, a priest wearing a straw hat, with his back to him, bent down staring at the driver of the car. He quickly opened his door and slogged over to the priest.

"What the hell were you doing standing in the middle of the road?" he yelled disrespectfully, and then "hey, mister, I'm talking to you!" when the priest didn't turn around, instead choosing to open the car door.

Still fuming, the man turned his attention to the driver of the little grey car and blanched. It was a young girl. The lower half of her face was covered in blood and she was struggling to breathe. To his eyes, it looked like she wasn't going to make it.

"Man, she looks pretty bad," he said quietly to the priest, his anger forgotten. "I'd better get my phone and call for help."

He hurried back to his car and found his cell phone beneath the pile of briefs he'd thrown onto the passenger's seat. Hastily he punched in some numbers and reported the accident and then rummaged around in the back seat for the towel he usually kept there. Finding it, he straightened up and looked around.

The priest was gone.

The man looked up and down the road as he made his way back to the crumpled car, but didn't see him anywhere. The car door was still open, and the man bent down to see what he could do to help the girl until the ambulance arrived.

"What the hell?!" he said for the second time, taking a step backwards.

The girl was unconscious, but the blood was gone, and she appeared to be breathing comfortably. He looked up and down the road again, looking for the mysterious priest, a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	4. 3: Flight to Izumo

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THREE

Head bent against the rain and clutching her coat together at the throat, Moe scurried through the glass sliding doors of the emergency room, her face creased with lines of worry. She paused, looking around the room which was crowded with patients waiting to be seen, trying to find someone who might be able to tell her where her daughter was.

"Why don't you and your mother go and sit down while I go and see what I can find out," Ms. Matsudaira said, stepping out from behind Moe and pointing to several empty chairs. "I can probably find out more than the receptionist can tell us, if I go inside."

Moe nodded and headed for the straight - backed chairs while Matsu turned and went through the doors marked "Authorized Personnel Only". Having a friend in the medical field, Moe thought, definitely had its advantages.

Moe sat poised on the edge of her seat, nervously wringing her hands together, and kept watching for Matsu to return. Momiji's grandmother put her hand on Moe's sleeve and patte her arm.

"She'll be fine," she murmured reassuringly, "you'll see."

"I hope so," Moe replied in a tense voice.

A few minutes later Moe jumped to her feet as Matsu came through the doors followed by a short man wearing silver rimmed glasses and a white lab coat.

"This is doctor Tokuma," Ms. Matsudaira informed Moe, "he saw Momiji when they first brought her in."

Moe turned apprehensive eyes to little man and asked, "How is Momiji? Is she going to be all right?"

"She was in a serious accident," he replied gravely, "but we are working with her right now, Mrs. Fujimiya. She is suffering from head and chest trauma and, it appears, possibly a fractured arm and wrist. We won't know how severe the trauma is though until we do some further tests. I am sorry, but I can't tell you any more than that."

The doctor quietly excused himself and went back through the doors, and Moe sat down shaken, her face pale from shock. Matsu stood hovering next to her, wishing that she could do something more.

"Did I hear that doctor call you Mrs. Fujimiya?" a policeman asked curiously, and when Moe nodded he stepped closer, motioning to a man across the room dressed in an overcoat and dark pants.

The officer introduced himself and then the other gentleman as Mr. Yamato. "Mr. Yamato saw the accident happen, ma'am. He was the one who phoned it in, and I thought you might like to talk to him."

Moe thanked the officer who nodded and walked away and Mr. Yamato stepped forward. Moe politely greeted him and then asked him about the accident.

He told them what he knew about seeing the priest in the road, and then standing by the car, but left out how shocked he had been when he had seen Moe's daughter before and then after the priest disappeared.

"You say you don't know what happened to the priest?" Ms. Matsudaira asked, nonplussed, "and you never saw his face?"

"Yes, that's right," Mr. Yamato confirmed nodding his head.

"Did he ever speak to you?" Moe wanted to know.

Mr. Yamato shook his head and Momiji's grandmother mumbled cryptically, "A dream has no beginning or end and disappears at will, nor can it speak unless the mind and body is at rest."

Everyone paused, staring at her, completely baffled by her words. Suddenly seeming to realize that she was the object of everyone's attention, she gave a dry chuckle.

"You'll have to forgive the ramblings of an old woman," she told them, "sometimes I don't know what I'm saying."

Moe and Ms. Matsudaira exchanged looks and Mr. Yamato cleared his throat. No one said anything for a few short seconds and then Mr. Yamato, after expressing his hope that everything would work out for Momiji, made his escape.

"I really need to call Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida," Moe said after he had gone, "to let them know what has happened. And I should probably call Kusanagi, too, although I don't know if Momiji would like that."

"I think he needs to know," Matsu agreed and she pulled out her phone and offered it to Moe, who took it with a grateful smile.

"AAARGHH!"

Kusanagi sat up in bed, his teeth gritted in pain. He broke out in a cold sweat and beads of mositure rolled down the sides of his face and down his bare back between his shoulders.

"What the hell is going on?" he wondered in a strained voice, and then doubled over as a fresh wave of pain swept over him.

As the pain intensified, he felt his control slipping and his mitamas began to glow. He stumbled out of bed, falling to his hands and knees and felt the blades in his arms break free. He bared his teeth and fought for control against the pain but was unable to gain the upper hand and passed out.

When he came to, he was lying facedown on the floor in the dark. The pain was gone and his body was back to normal, but he felt weak like all his energy had been drained. Pushing himself up, he staggered across the room and collapsed into a chair.

What had just happened to him, he wondered, pushing back the stray lock of greenish black hair that had fallen against his forehead. He hadn't felt like this since… he broke off his train of thought as a feeling of dread gripped him.

"Momiji," Kusanagi mumbled heavily.

He pulled himself from his chair and turned on the light as he finished his thought. He hadn't felt like this since before the aragami had summoned Susano-oh. Kusanagi wasn't sure what it meant, but he knew it couldn't be good.

He pulled a well-creased slip of paper from his pocket and reached for the phone. He flipped open the paper, like he had done at least a dozen times since Midori had given it to him, and looked down at the phone number written there. But this time, instead of refolding the paper, he dialed the number and waited.

She wasn't home. He frowned and looked at his watch. It was well after midnight. Where could she possibly be? He left her a message asking for her to call him and hung up, his dread intensifying. He crossed back over to the window and stared down into the street, rubbing the back of his hand where the mitama lay embedded deeply into his skin. He had a really bad feeling about all of this.

Not thirty minutes later the phone rang and he grabbed it before it had a chance to ring a second time.

"Momiji?"

"…No, Kusanagi," replied the voice, "It's Moe."

"What's happened?" Kusanagi wanted to know immediately.

"Momiji's been in a car accident. I can't tell you how bad it is yet, because we still don't know.. I was hoping that you would come, Kusanagi."

Kusanagi had already crossed the room, grabbing up his shirt and long coat and shoving his feet into his shoes. "I'm on my way," he replied and hung up.

Quickly pulling the shirt over his head, he thrust his arms into his black coat and crossed to the window, sliding it open. He would travel the quickest way he knew to get there; through the air. Slipping through the window, the image of her green eyes flashed through his mind.

Momiji, he thought, I should have never let you leave Tokyo.

Momiji was suspended in darkness. She could feel the wind rushing around her, whispering into the silence that surrounded her.

"Kushinada," it seemed to call to her again and again.

It twisted around her body, lifting her hair from her shoulders, sending the long strands spiraling out behind her in long waves.

"Kushinada," the wind whispered again, another voice blending with it; the deeper resonance echoing around her, through her, commanding her to open her eyes.

Slowly Momiji opened her eyes and as she did so, she was surrounded by a halo of shimmering light that held the darkness at bay. Momiji looked around. The wind had ceased leaving nothing but the light where she stood and the silence and darkness beyond the iridescent boundary.

"Kushinada." The voice repeated, stronger this time.

As the sound of it faded away, the figure of a man appeared before her, a man dressed in priest's robes, but this time without the eboshi. Momiji looked up into his face, feeling the same shock of recognition that she had earlier. Her eyes traveled from his dark hair and eyes to the blue mitama centered over his third eye.

"Lord Susano-oh," Momiji replied faintly, wide-eyed.

Susano-oh stared at her for a long moment and then Momiji heard him speak, though his lips did not move.

"Why have you rejected the gift that I had returned to you, Kushinada?"

"What do you mean??" Momiji responded, puzzled, and then felt soft linen brush against her arm as another figure appeared at her shoulder.

"Kusanagi," Kaede whispered to her before fading away.

"But I didn't reject him," Momiji stammered in protest, "he rejected me!"

Susano-oh disappeared and reappeared closer to her side. "No Kushinada," came the words as his eyes stared down into hers. "Can you not see that he is troubled?" Susano-oh asked her, "Search your feelings. I know that deep in your heart you have felt it."

Momiji stared into his deep eyes feeling lost and uncertain. "But I thought…" she murmured weakly.

Susano-oh disappeared once again, reappearing at a distance as he contined to speak to her. "Having been deprived of what he prizes most, Kusanagi now denies himself that which he desires most."

"I don't understand…what he prizes most? – You mean, his freedom?" Momiji asked hesitantly.

"Not his freedom, Kushinada, but his humanity; stolen from him when he was but a child. His soul longs for the humanity that Orochi's mitamas have erased."

"To be human?" Momiji said to herself, "but he is human."

"Only half human, Kushinada."

"Even if the blood that flows through his veins is different," Momiji contradicted, "he is more human than most people I have met. He has fought many battles for the sake of Japan – so that others could live. Not many men - not many _humans_ would be wiling to give their lives for what they believe. So if that makes him less than human, then he lost nothing when his blood stopped flowing red."

"There is much wisdom in what you say, Kushinada, so I ask you again. Why have you rejected the gift I had returned to you?"

But Momiji still didn't understand.

"Your lives are forever intertwined, Kushinada," Susano-oh told her, "yours and Kusanagi's. It is not by chance that he was chosen by Orochi, to protect Kaede and then you, but by my will. Your fates lie together, destined to be as one. I saw that from the moment you and he were born. He sees it as well, yet he denies his destiny because of his longing to be human – for you." Susano-oh faded and reappeared right in front of her, taking her hand. "How long will you deny _you_r destiny, Kushinada?"

"I-I will not deny it," she stammered.

He smiled down at her and then his face turned grave once again. Letting go of her hand, he faded, appearing farther away in the surrounding darkness. "There is much I wish to tell you, Kushinada, but your time here grows short, so I cannot." As he spoke, the light around Momiji began to flicker and dim and his voice, when it came again, sounded farther away. "A new evil dwells in the darkness. It will manifest itself to you soon, Kushinada, and it will be searching for the one I will send to you." It was completely dark now and Momiji felt herself falling as Suano-oh's final words reached her. " Bind yourself with Kusanagi. Help him to see in himself the humanity you see – not just for his sake, but for the sake of the one I send and all of Japan. He is your destiny."

Susano-oh stood in the place where Momiji had been and Kaede appeared at his side. He looked down at her and held out his hand. She placed her hand within his and leaned against him.

"My lord," she said, "are you sure that it is wise to awaken him? After all, the blood that flows within his veins is that of his father's. Awaken him and you awaken his father as well."

Susano-oh caressed his wife's hair and replied, "He will awaken, my love, whether I choose to awaken him myself or not. He is vulnerable to the beast, and I would have the Kushinada find him before it does."

"And his father?"

"That is inevitable as well, though it will take him longer to awaken from his slumber. We have time."

"He will try to awaken the others."

"Yes, but while I remain at rest, most cannot be called to do his bidding. "

"But, my lord –" Kaede began, troubled..

"Do not worry, my love," Susano-oh soothed, "things are not as before. It will be different this time. Perhaps not in the beginning, but I foresee him beginning a different journey. His fate is intertwined with that of your sister and her protector as well, and so we must have faith in the Kushinada and Kusanagi."

Moe was still sitting in the emergency room waiting room with her mother when Kusanagi arrived. When she saw him coming through the door, she jumped up and hurried over to him closely followed by Momiji's grandmother.

"Kusanagi," Moe greeted him in alarm, "you're soaked through to the skin!"

His hair and clothes were drenched and a puddle was forming around his feet where he stood. He looked cold and weary, and Moe, concerned, removed the scarf from her neck and handed it to him.

"Here," she murmured as he took it from her, "it's not much but at least you'll be able to dry your face."

He thanked her and then said without preamble, "I got here as fast as I could. How's Momiji?"

"We still don't know anything, but Ms. Matsudaira went back there a little while ago" she pointed to the swinging doors, "to see what she could find out. I am expecting her back any time now."

Kusanagi wiped the water from his eyes with Moe's scarf and followed her over to the chairs, his feet squelching loudly as he went.

"You'll be lucky if you don't get sick," Moei told him with a warning look.

"Nah," Kusanagi replied, "I've never been sick. I don't think I _can_ get sick."

"That's silly," Moe said in the repressive tone of a mother, "of course you can get sick. You've just been fortunate, that's all. Did you bring any clothes with you?"

When Kusanagi shook his head, Moe gave him a considering look, "I have some of my husband's old things. They would be a little tight, but I think you could squeeze into them."

"Don't worry about it," Kusanagi said brushing away her offer, "I'll be fine."

Looking surprised, Moe asked, "Aren't you planning to stay Kusanagi?"

An arrested look crossed his face. "Stay? – I guess so," he replied slowly, suddenly realizing that he had already made that decision while on the way to Izumo. He was just forced to acknowledge it to himself when Moe asked him about it.

"Then you should have brought some things with you," she replied, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

"Well, I was more concerned with just getting here in a hurry… I guess I'll have to go back for my things and find a new place here once I find out how she is."

As he spoke the sliding doors opened and Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida hastened through them, closely followed by Kome and Yaegashi. Mr. Kunikida's face darkened when he saw Kusanagi and he began lashing out at him before he had even reached him.

"Kusanagi!! Damn you!! This would never have happened if you were doing what you're supposed to be doing!!" He barked.

Kusanagi slowly rose to his feet, meeting Mr. Kunikida's hard gaze unwaveringly.

"Daitestu –" Ryoko tried to intervene, but Kusanagi stopped her with a look.

"No," Kusanagi said stiffly, turning away,"he's right. I should have been there protecting her."

"Stop it! Both of you!" Moe cried, and both men turned to look at her, "do you think Momiji would want you to be acting this way? This is nobody's fault! It was her decision to come back to Izumo. Please! Neither of you are making this situation any better with your behavior."

You're right, Moe," Mr. Kunikida agreed gruffly, and then to Kusanagi, "I apologize, Kusanagi. I should have never said that."

Kusanagi just kept his back to him, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. But he turned quickly when he heard Ms. Matsudaira speak. She had returned without anyone realizing it, and there was a preoccupied look on her face.

"Mrs. Fujimiya, first I want to tell you that I think Momiji is going to be fine," Moe's slight frame sagged with relief, "but, she's not out of the woods yet, and there are some things you need to know – things that are…hard to explain."

"What kind of things," Kusanagi wanted to know stepping forward.

"Well, for one Momiji has lost a lot of blood from what we assume were internal injuries," Ms. Matsudaira replied, "but the thing of it is, they can't seem to locate the source of the bleeding."

"What!?" Kome demanded, alarmed, "does that mean they can't stop the bleeding?"

"No," Matsu elaborated, "what I mean is that Momiji has lost a great deal of blood within the last six hours – all of her counts are down; her platelets, her hemoglobin, her white count – everything is off. But she isn't bleeding internally now. In fact, the CAT scan of her internal organs is normal."

"That's is odd," Yaegashi commented, pushing up his glasses with his forefinger.

"It is, but that's not the end of it," Ms. Matsudaira added, pulling out some x-rays from the manila envelope she had been holding in her hand. "Momiji has fractured her right arm and wrist and cracked three of her ribs."

She held the x-rays up for them to see, but no one really knew what they were looking at, so they all just kept looking at her. Seeing that she was the only one interested in the films, Matsu slid them back in the envelope and continued with her explanation.

"The breaks are fairly normal in and of themselves. What's not normal about them is that they are almost completely healed.' At her words, Kusanagi's brow furrowed in thought and he absently rubbed the back of his hands, feeling the raised smoothness of the blue seeds.

" We would have assumed that she suffered from a concussion as well," Matsu continued, " given the contusions to her face and forehead, but that x-ray was completely normal, too."

"So what does this mean?" Mr, Kunikida wanted to know.

"It means that the biggest battle that Momiji is fighting right now is the loss of blood. She was given a transfusion earlier, and she is stable, but she has yet to recover consciousness, and when she does she is going to feel very weak for a while."

"But she will fully recover, right?" Kome asked.

Matsu nodded and added, "They'll probably even let her go home in a couple of days time. But she is most likely going to need some help for a few days. She still does have the fractures and the cracked ribs, and again, because of the loss of blood, she will not feel up to much for a week or two. By that time, though, she should be, pretty much back to normal. She'll even be able to remove her cast, by then."

"Maybe we should bring some things to stay with Momiji," Kunikida said to Ryoko, his eyes bulging in shock when Moe overruled him in favor of Kusanagi.

"You are more than welcome to stay with me," Moe told him firmly but not unkindly, "but Kusanagi will be staying with Momiji. We discussed it earler."

"Moe, I don't thinks that's such a good idea," Kunikida began, a heavy frown on his face, but his words were completely blotted out by Kusanagi's reaction.

Kusanagi's body stiffened and his head whipped around at her words, "What!? I never said –" he began, his voice rising in panic.

"Yes, you did," Moe contradicted, "earlier when I asked you if you were staying, you said yes."

Kusanagi did some serious verbal backpedaling, trying to extricate himself from a situation he sure as hell didn't want to be in. "Well, yes, technically I said that, but - no, what I really meant was -"

"Excuse us, won't you?" Moe asked politely

Everyone was staring curiously from Moe to Kusanagi, too stunned by Moe's remark to object when Moe pulled a more than reluctant Kusanagi away from the rest of the group to speak to him privately.  
"Kusanagi," Moe began, stepping around in front of him and looking up at him earnestly, reminding Kusanagi strongly of Momiji, when she did so. "I need you to stay with Momiji. Although I'm very glad that my daughter is doing so well, I am very disturbed by what has happened. It's not just her injuries that are strange, either, Kusanagi," and she told him about the priest disappearing from the scene of the accident. She could see he was beginning to waver so she pressed on, adding, "I would feel much safer knowing that you are with her. What if meeting that priest wasn't just a coincidence? What if there was a purpose to all of this? It's just all too strange to disregard," she ended perspicaciously.

"You're right," he agreed in resignation, thinking back on what happened to him earlier in his apartment when his mitamas went out of control. It was all too strange to ignore.

Moe smiled at him relief. "Then, it's settled?"

Kusanagi nodded his head reluctantly, "But just until she is better. Then I'll have to find a place of my own here. I don't think it's such a good idea for me to stay with her longer than that."

"Yes, of course," Moe agreed, not really concerned now that she knew her daughter was safe.

She trusted Kusanagi to take care of Momiji and knew that no matter what direction things took, he would protect her daughter with his life.

Moe turned back and rejoined the small group, who stood, silent and uncomfortable, waiting for the decision to be made regarding who would be staying with Momiji.

Kunikida scowled even harder when Moe told them that Kusanagi would, indeed be staying with Momiji. "You lay one finger on her, and so help me god, Kusanagi, mitamas or no mitamas, I'll break both of your arms," he muttered softly so that only Kusanagi heard him

"Relax," Kusanagi said with an indifference he was far from feeling, "Nothing's going to happen."

Kunikida just gave him a sour look. Kusanagi couldn't much blame him. If Kunikida really knew how he felt, he'd probably shoot Kusanagi. Maybe he should tell Kunikida how he felt and let Kunikida put him out of his misery, Kusanagi thought derisively. Making it through the next two weeks was going to be hard. It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Being around her constantly with nowhere to run would drive him mad.

"Hell, I'll probably feel like shooting myself in two weeks if Kunikida doesn't beat me to it," he muttered bitterly to himself.

But, he really had no choice. He had to do it. She was his - to protect, at least. He was just going to have to find a way to become stronger so that he could uphold his obligation not to touch her, that was all.

He was still mulling over the situation when he was distracted from his thoughts by a mumbled remark from Ryoko to Mr. Kunikiida.

"You don't think this has anything to do with what we saw in Hokkaido, do you? Maybe we should tell them about it," Ryoko was saying too low for anyone to hear, or so she thought. But Kusanagi heard and he turned his head sharply, waiting to hear Kunikida's reply.

"We can't. It's classified right now, dammit," he ran a hand over his tired face and added, "besides, Kome has seen the other victims. None of the others had a mark quite like that, so it may just be an aberration."

Kusanagi tensed up and butted into their conversation, ignoring their dismayed look at discovering they had been overheard, "Just what the hell are you talking about?" he wanted to know, "what's going on in Hokkaido. What kind of mark are you talking about?"

Kome, who had been standing next to Yaegashi, detached herself from his side and approached Kusanagi. "You want to lower your voice, Plant Boy!?" she shot him a quelling look and then glanced around to make sure that no one else had heard him. "It's classified and it's not anything that we can talk about right now. So just back off."

Both the Defense Force and the TAC? It must be something big, Kusanagi thought, knowing that Kome was no longer working for the TAC but for the Defense Force.

"Look," he shot back in a hard voice, "I could care less about your stupid case. All I care about is protecting Momiji!"

"Well you sure have a funny way of showing it, you jerk!" Kome growled indignantly, her blue eyes shooting sparks as she closed the gap between then, "I can't believe you can actually stand there with that arrogant look on your face when you went and left Momiji all alone for three months for god knows what stupid reason! You weren't too interested in protecting her then, were you?"

Kusanagi's face darkened with fury, but he remained silent as Kome turned a cold shoulder to him. "You broke her heart when you left, you know," her voice was low but it throbbed with intensity, "She's special to a lot of people, me included, so you'd better not hurt her again or you'll be breathing out your ass!" She threatened without looking at him and then walked away.

Kunikida remained silent for a moment and then said in a more conciliatory way. "Look, Kusanagi, all we're talking about are random animal attacks that the local officials in Hokkaido are unable to classify. I'm not at liberty to go into any of the details that make this such an unusual case, but I can tell you that if I had any real evidence that I thought might connect Momiji with the attacks, you would be the first to know."

Kunikida didn't say anything more, and Kusanagi turned away in disgust, dissatisfied with what little he had been told. Warning bells were going off in his head. He didn't like it. Strange attacks,, his mitamas activating on their own, Momiji's car accident and injuries, and the disappearing priest. Could they all be related? Was Momiji in danger again? Suddenly he had an overwhelming desire to see Momiji to make certain for himself that she was all right.

Kusanagi walked over to Ms. Matsudaira and waited for her to finish speaking with Momiji's mother and grandmother

"When can we see Momiji," he asked Ms. Matsudaira when there was a pause in their conversation.

"Well, they'll be moving her to a room soon, but visiting hours are over, so they'll probably only let Mrs.Fujimiya and Momiji's grandmother in to see her. The rest of us will have to wait until tomorrow." Matsu replied.

That wasn't good enough. He needed to see Momiji now. Tonight. But instead of voicing his thoughts aloud, he nodded his head and remained silent.

In conjunction with what Matsudaira had said, a nurse arrived a few minutes later and told Moe that she could take her to Momiji's room.

"We'll wait here for you," Kunikida told Moe, "and follow you home once you've seen her."

"Yoshiki and I are gonna go and find a hotel," Kome spoke up.

"You're more than welcome to stay at my house, with Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida, my mother and myself," Moe offered.

"Thanks, but it sounds like you're going to be awfully crowded," Kome replied, "we'll be fine on our own. We can meet you guys here at the hospital in the morning."

Moe nodded and then turned to Kusanagi who stood, arms folded, leaning against the wall, listening to everyone make their plans.

"What about you, Kusanagi? Are you coming back to my house, or do you want to stay at Momiji's?"

"I'll stay here tonight, thanks," he replied, not wanting to leave Momiji alone if he could help it.

"Well if you're sure," Moe said uncertainly and when Kusanagi nodded she allowed the nurse to guide her and Momiji's grandmother to Momiji's room.

Kusanagi gave them a few minutes head start and then pushed away from the wall.

"Where are you going?" Kunikida wanted to know, looking up at him from his chair

"Nowhere," Kusanagi replied with a challenging look.

Kunikida probably knew where he was going, but Kusanagi didn't think he would bother to stop him. He was right. Kunikida just nodded and looked away, so, with long strides, Kusanagi made his way down the hall, keeping the nurse and Momiji's mother and grandmother within his line of sight.

Once he knew the room, he turned around and made his way back outside into the night. Low clouds hung in the sky, completely blotting out the moonlight, which suited him just fine. It would be harder for anyone to spot him that way. The wind was blowing hard, whipping his black coat around his legs, but at least the rain had stopped. Kusanagi bowed his head to the wind and walked along the pavement, looking up every now and then at the glowing windows of the hospital. When he thought he had gone to the right spot, he stopped and glanced around to make sure that he was alone.

With the blink of an eye, he was gone, moving so fast that it almost appeared as if he had vanished. Like a giant spider, he crouched on the side of the building, the light from the window to his right throwing him in silhouette. Thankfully the curtains to the room weren't drawn so he was able to stretch forward and peek inside.

Kusanagi smiled triumphantly when he saw Moe's back. She was standing in front of the window alongside Momiji's grandmother, blocking his view of the bed, but now that he had the right room, he leaned back, content to wait until she was gone. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he peeked in again and saw them heading towards the door. Moe turned back when she reached it to look one last time at Momiji, so he ducked his head quickly so as not to be seen. He waited just a few more minutes to be safe and then slid the window silently open.

As Kusanagi approached Momij's bed, everything else in the room faded away. His chest tightened with fear as he gazed down at her. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she was dead. Her arms were stretched out beside her body, on top of the coverlet, her right arm in a cast that extended from just below the elbow all the way to her fingertips. He briefly touched her hand and it was like ice. His eyes traveled to her face in concern. It was devoid of all color save the livid bruise that ran the length of one of her cheekbones, and a crimson gash above her eyebrow. Her hair stood out brightly against the whiteness of her skin. A mass of tangles, it spread across the pillow, and fell against her forehead in disarray.

She looked so small and lost lying there, he thought and he kneeled beside her bed. With gentle fingers he reached out and smoothed the soft tangles away from her forehead, his own head dropping to the bed beside her body.

"Oh, god, Momiji," he muttered through gritted teeth, "this is all my fault. I'm so sorry."

He closed his eyes, and then opened them again as he felt the light touch of her fingers against his where he had left them on the pillow beside her cheek. His head shot up and he looked at her face. Her eyes were open, but only just, and a sweet smile curved her lips.

"Kusanagi," she murmured, "you came."

Kusanagi started to remove his hand from her grasp and stand up, but stopped when he saw the smile flicker and die.

"You're not leaving now, are you?" Momiji asked weakly, her brow furrowed and her eyes closing. It was too much of an effort to keep them open.

"No, I'm not leaving," Kusanagi assured her and felt her fingers tighten on his briefly before she let him go. He leaned forward to catch her next words, her voice so soft that he was having a hard time hearing her.

"Good. He told me…. danger" she mumbled, and then mumbled something else he couldn't understand, ending with the words, "my destiny," before she slipped back into sleep.

Kusanagi remained for a few more minutes, his slitted eyes staring down at her, and then hearing the nurse outside her door, turned and went back out the window, mulling over the words that Momiji had muttered: _He told me… danger……my destiny_. What did that mean, he wondered to himself. And who had Momiji been talking to?


	5. 4: Reunion

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FOUR

Mr. Kunikida entered Momiji's hospital room and stopped short at the door, a big smile creasing his face as he saw Momiji sitting, fully dressed in a chair by the bed. Moe was sitting on the bed with a comb in her hand, and they both turned and looked at Mr. Kunikida as he came further in the room.

"Good morning, Momiji," he intoned brightly, "I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to see you up and about."

Momiji grinned at him. "You couldn't possibly be any gladder that I am."

"I take it that means that you are more than ready to go home?" and when she nodded, added, "what? You mean you don't want to stay and feast on all that gourmet food they serve here? I hear the gruel here is top notch."

Momiji made a sour face and Kunikida laughed. It was good to see her back to her old self. Or at least partially back to her old self. Her face was still pale, and the bruise on her cheek and the cut above her eyebrow still stood out vividly, and her hair, too, was tangled and dull looking, but her eyes were bright and her smile contagious, and Kunikida felt a surge of thankfulness well up within him.

"Did I interrupt anything?" Kunikida asked pointing to Moe, still sitting on the bed with the comb in her hand, "do you want me to come back later?"

Moe answered him, "We tried combing her hair, but it made her head hurt, so she said she would do it when she got home and had had a chance to wash it."

While they spoke, Momiji slowly got up from the chair, her ribs still fairly sore, and walked across the room to look out of the window and down at the front entrance to the hospital. She'd done the same thing at least a dozen times already this morning, and felt the same disappointment wash over her when she couldn't find what she was looking for.

Turning, she made her way back to her chair and sat back down. Feeling tired from just getting up and moving around, she leaned back in the chair and listened to her mother and Mr. Kunikida chatting, while they waited for the nurse to come with the wheelchair to take her down to the car.

She listened for a few more minutes and then got up again, watched curiously by Mr. Kunikida who shot a questioning glance at Moe.

"She's been doing that all morning, but I don't know why," Moe murmured to him.

"What is it Momiji," Mr. Kunikida asked, moving to stand next to her and look down at the pavement.

Momiji didn't say anything for a minute. She wondered if she had just imagined Kusanagi being with her when she had woken up for the first time in the hospital two nights ago. She hadn't seen him since then and she had been hoping he would show up without her having to ask anyone about him. But it appeared that if she wanted to know, she had no choice but to ask.

"Mr Kunikida," she began slowly, "that first night that I woke up in the hospital, I thought – that is, was Kusanagi here, in Izumo?"

She felt relief flood through her when he nodded, glad to know that it hadn't been just a dream.

"He was here," Mr. Kunikida affirmed, "but he went back to Tokyo this morning. He said that he had some things to take care of before –"

"Daitetsu!" Ryoko called him urgently from the door, interrupting his conversation with Momiji, and Momiji felt dismay wash through her as she digested Mr. Kunikida's words.

Kusanagi had been here. But now he was back in Tokyo. So it must have been a dream after all, when he had told her that he wasn't going to leave. Momiji turned and walked glumly back to her chair feeling suddenly depressed.

Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko stepped out into the hall, and Momiji watched them go without the least bit of interest, too tired to care about anything anymore.

"Daitetsu, there's been two more attacks," Ryoko told him apprehensively.

"In Sappora?" he wanted to know immediately

Ryoko shook her head, a stricken look in her blue eyes.

"It's Wakasa this time," she replied heavily.

"What!? But that's not that far from here!" he exclaimed, shaken.

"Kome is already there. I told her we would be there as soon as we took care of Momiji."

"Ryoko," Kunikida said, the lines in his face deepening as he frowned, "this is not good. I had hoped that we could handle this alone. God knows that both Momiji and Kusanagi have sacrificed so much of their lives to help Japan. It's not fair to have to drag them into this. Especially since we aren't sure what we're dealing with."

"Maybe it won't come to that," Ryoko replied desperately, hating to see Daitetsu look so depressed. "Why don't we wait until we get to Wakasa to make any decisions. Perhaps it's not the same thing."

Kunikida nodded his head, but he didn't hold out much hope of that happening. He tried to push it from his mind as he spied a nurse with a wheelchair coming down the hall.

"Try not to look so upset," Ryoko advised as they prepared to step back into Momiji's room, "or she'll know something is wrong."

Kunikida arranged his face into what he hoped was a suitably pleasant expression and entered the room with Ryoko. He needn't have worried though. One look at Momiji told him that she was wiped out. She opened her eyes long enough for them to get her to the car and then she was out again.

Kunikida carefully picked Momiji up once they arrived at her house and carried her inside. Moe led him to her room where she pulled back the covers allowing him to place her on the bed and tuck her in. Kunikida straightened up, looking down at her sleeping peacefully and felt Moe touch his arm, a questioning look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Kunikida shook his head and turned and left the room, followed by Moe.

"Can Ryoko and I drop you home?" he asked as they walked back to the front door.

Moe shook her head, "I'm probably going to stay the night. Just to make sure that she does okay," she replied with a mother's instinctual worry. "Besides, I left my car parked over there," and she pointed to the little white car parked just down the street.

"Ryoko and I have some business to attend to in Wakasa," he told Moe, "but we'll be back."

Moe offered him her hospitality for as long as they wished to stay, and Kunikida accepted gratefully. They might be here in Izumo for quite a while with the way things were unfolding. Kunikida wished her goodbye, and climbed back in the car with Ryoko.

When Kunikida and Ryoko reached the morgue in Wakasa, Kome met them and the look on her face told them that it wasn't good. She took them to the examination room where there were two bodies laid out on the stainless steel tables; one an adolescent boy and the other a young woman.

Kunikida looked at them, knowing immediately that it was the same kind of attack that had been occurring in Sappora. He went forward and raised the eyelid of the boy and then the woman knowing what he would find; the pigmentation from their irises had been destroyed, leaving their eyes white. In fact, the pigmentation throughout their entire bodies was gone, leaving them looking unreal with white, leathery skin and white hair. But that wasn't the only thing that characterized their deaths.

These victims had been mutilated, with long gashes, which looked to have been made by long, sharp claws or perhaps talons, and puncture marks that were unlike any he had seen before. He would have guessed that these punctures were made by teeth, but was uncertain since there were always two sets, one set inside of the other.

Many of the bodies they had discovered had been similarly damaged, but these two bodies had been particularly savaged, one almost severed completely in half. Kukikida looked away, disturbed. That was the one thing that was inconsistent about these bizarre deaths: the brutality. Some of the bodies were almost completely untouched and others, like these were almost torn apart. It didn't make sense.

"They have the same mark," Ryoko observed, turning away, her hand over her mouth as her stomach rebelled at the sight of the carnage.

Kunikida focused his brown eyes on the victims' heads. They bore the shadow of a mark on their foreheads, a burn mark approximately two and a half inches long, but of indistinct shape. In all of the cases, thus far, it was the same, save one. In that one case, the mark had had a clear definable shape, and it had sent a chill along his spine when he had seen it.

Kunikida stepped closer, leaning down to study the mark, looking for an edge to it, trying to trace a pattern, but there was none. He should have felt relieved, but he didn't.

"Well," Ryoko asked him, "what should we do? Do you think we should enlist Momiji's help? Maybe she can sense something that we're not seeing."

Kunikida debated a long moment and then turned away from the bodies. He walked to the door, his hands in his pockets. "No," he said decisively, "let's get Sakura down here first and see what she has to say."

"But no one seems to know where she is," Ryoko replied looking at Kome, who just shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"Well, find her," Kunikida snapped as he opened the door and passed through, saying over his shoulder, "she's been on sabbatical long enough. We're not paying her to be a wandering pop star. She has a job she's supposed to do, and she'd better damn well do it."

"Yes, sir," Ryoko replied, biting her lip. "And just how are we supposed to find her?" Ryoko asked Kome since she was the only one there.

Kome thoughtfully put her finger to her chin and reflected on the best way to track Sakura Yamazaki down. "Hmmm," she ruminated and then snapped her fingers, "I bet Sugishita knows where she is!"

"Sugi, huh?"

"Yeah," Kome replied dryly, "he's sure to know where she is. After all doesn't he have a thing for Pop Tarts?"

"Kome, did you forget that he once had a thing for me? _I'm_ not a tart!"

"Calm down," Kome waved her hand, "of course you're not a tart. But the same thing can't be said about Sakura. She's as tarty as they come!" she grinned.

Momiji slept restlessly;, her dreams, a synthesis of jumbled images and words, and she awoke with a start, as if someone had shouted at her. She sat up slowly and looked around, bleary eyed. Her clock told her it was five o'clock in the morning. Momiji tried to rub her eyes with both hands. She had momentarily forgotten about the cast, and whacked herself in the nose with the cumbersome thing, grimacing at her own stupidity.

Momiji turned on her bedside lamp and slid her feet over the side of her bed. Feeling around for her slippers she shoveled her feet into them and then padded across the room to where her mother sat, tilted sideways in a small armchair next to the window, sleeping.

Poor Mom, Momiji thought. She looked so tired. With a gentle hand, Momiji reached out and shook her mother awake.

"Mom," Momiji uttered softly, calling to her mother until she finally opened her eyes.

"Momiji," her mother finally responded, sitting up, a dazed look on her face as she squinted against the light invading her sensitive eyes.

"Mom, why don't you go home and get some rest," Momiji said straightening back up.

"I thought I would just stay for a little while longer, to make sure that you're all right," Moe demurred.

But Momiji was having none of that. It was clearly evident to her that her mom needed to go home and rest. "Mom, I'm fine. I'll be all right on my own for right now," Momiji assured her, "I'm feeling much better."

"Really," Moe asked, her face brightening.

"Really," Momiji fibbed for her mother's benefit.

Well, it was only a partial fib, she rectified. Her ribs weren't quite as sore as they had been, and her head wasn't hurting anymore. But her legs still felt like they were made out of rubber, though, and she felt so gritty that it was like she had been rolling around in the dirt. Her hair too, was literally standing on end on top of her head in places, the rest hanging down her back in a snarled mass of tangles. One of the first things she was going to do when she had seen her mother home was to climb in the shower. Perhaps when she was clean, she would feel half way human again.

It took a few moments for Moe to collect her things and when she kissed her daughter goodbye at the door, she said, "Call me if you need any help. You know, there are some things a man just can't help with," a remark which totally mystified her daughter who waved to her mother and then closed the door, a puzzled frown on her face.

Her mother must have been more tired than even Momiji had realized, because she wasn't making any sense. Momiji shook her head, and dismissed it from her mind, turning to climb the stairs. She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, though, and bit her lip in indecision. She really wanted to get a bath, but what she wanted even more was a nice, hot cup of tea. She turned toward the kitchen, deciding that the bath could wait for just a few minutes and saw the light blinking on her answering machine.

It reminded her of Midori, and Momiji wondered if anyone had thought to tell Midori about her accident. Apparently not, for there were three new messages from her friend, the last one telling her that she was going home for the weekend to see her parents and would try Momiji again when she got back to Tokyo. But Momiji barely paid attention to them, because there was a message from Kusanagi sandwiched in between Midori's first message and her other three.

Just the sound of his voice was enough to make her stomach flip over and her heart race.

"Momiji," came his voice, sounding troubled, "something's happened and I need to talk to you. Call me when you get in, no matter what time it is. I'll be here."

There was a click and he was gone, but his words went around and around in her head and she felt the same panic grip her that she had felt when she had listened to Midori's first message. Did Kusanagi want to talk to her about Midori? Oh, god, no, Momiji moaned to herself, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, and a sudden image of Susano-oh flashed through her mind.

"Bind yourself with Kusanagi. Help him to see in himself the humanity you see – not just for his sake, but for the sake of the one I send and all of Japan. HE IS YOUR DESTINY."

The words echoed through her mind and she opened her eyes again. Her vision Or had it been just a dream? When she had first awakened, she hadn't thought so. It had seemed too vivid, too real. But now that several days had passed, she wondered if perhaps it had been just the fevered imagination of her brain; nothing more than a phantom caused by her accident.

Another image flashed through her mind; that of the priest – Susano-oh - standing in the road, and again, she began to question what she had seen. Had it truly been Susano-oh, or had it merely been an illusion created through a haze of pain. She thought hard, trying to remember if she had seen his face before she had crashed, but couldn't remember. Those memories now blurred together, enmeshed with her vivid dream of Susano-oh and Kaede, and Momiji wasn't sure of anything she had seen or felt anymore.

She might have even been able to say that the accident had been dream as well, so hazy had it become, were it not for the bumps and bruises that existed as physical proof. Her thoughts circled around and around until they came back to Kusanagi and his message.

Call him, a little voice prompted her. So she picked up the phone and dialed his number. There was no answer, and she hung up without leaving a message. Kusanagi? Her destiny? She snorted in self-derision for letting herself believe in such a fanciful dream, and turned away from the machine after she had erased all the messages.

This was not the way she had planned on starting her day, she thought blackly, as she padded into the kitchen and went over to the stove to get the tea kettle. With a jerk she lifted it from the stove and took it over to the sink to fill it with water, slamming her cast into the faucet before she realized what she was doing.

"Crap!" she huffed, feeling further incensed by her inability to do such a small task.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such harsh language at such an early hour in the morning. I thought you saved that particular euphemism for special occasions, like when you're yelling at me."

Momiji's eyes widened as she heard the amusement in the familiar voice, and she whipped around, losing the top to the kettle in the process. It clattered loudly to the floor and she watched it roll to a stop next to Kusanagi's foot. Momiji's eyes traveled up to his face, taking in the faded jeans and dark blue shirt that molded to his body perfectly. His hair was wet, as if he had just gotten out of the shower and he exuded an air of sexuality that unnerved Momiji.

Momiji absently reached back behind her and put the kettle in the sink. She watched, her mouth hanging open slightly, as Kusanagi slowly bent down and picked up the lid to the kettle. He straightened, holding the copper and ceramic top between his long, black gloved fingers, his eyes sliding over her as he sauntered towards her.

"Good morning, princess," he said lazily.

"Kusanagi," she breathed, "what are you doing here? Mr. Kunikida said - I thought you had gone back to Tokyo to be with – Midori left a message and -your message said… What is it that you needed to talk to me about? Is it about Midori? She left a message about you too, and if you guys… that is – " Momiji cringed inwardly, as he stopped in front of her, holding the lid out to her, an eyebrow raised quizzically as he stared down at her.

Dear god, Momiji thought desperately, someone please shoot me. I can't stop babbling!

"What _are_ you babbling about?" he asked her as if reading her thoughts, and when Momiji made to take the lid from him, he pulled it back out of her reach, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Pink teddy bears," he murmured, leaning forward and tugging on the front of Momiji's flannel nightgown, "very…nice."

Momiji's face flamed, and she tried to step away from him, but he still had a hold on her gown, so she didn't get very far.

"Did it come with matching panties as well?" he asked, slightly lifting upwards as if to take a look and see for himself, the wicked gleam intensifying as Momiji's face burned even brighter.

Momiji's mouth thinned into an angry line. "You jerk!" she gritted out and swung her cast at him, hitting him squarely in the arm with a loud _thwap!_

"Owww!" he complained, letting go of her gown and taking a quick step back.

"Just what are you doing here?" Momiji demanded, her green eyes full of fire.

Kusanagi's smile became smug as he replied, "I'm here because you need me."

Momiji balled her good hand into a fist and she tried to hang on to her temper, failing completely. "I do _not_," she took another swing at him, her cast connecting solidly, "need you, you big, fat-headed jerk!"

"Owww!" he complained again, "Momiji, stop that! That hurts!"

She gave him a satisfied smirk and shot back, "It's supposed to! And I don't need you," she reiterated, silently adding to herself, 'at least not the way you think I do.'

Completely ignoring her, he stepped around her and took the kettle from the sink, filling it with water and putting it on the stove to boil. "Well, I'm not going anywhere, so you better get used to me being here," he replied blandly without turning around.

Momiji stomped her foot and made a frustrated noise before she turned on her heel and stormed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, still without turning around.

"This is my house, Kusanagi! I don't have to tell you where I'm going," she responded waspishly. She made it to the foot of the stairs, and then felt his presence behind her. "What are you doing?" she turned around and snapped.

"Since you won't tell me where you're going," Kusanagi responded with infuriating calmness, "I thought I would follow you and find out for myself."

"I'm going to take a shower! Is that okay with you?" she almost shouted at him.

"Fine," he said, coolly shrugging. He turned back to the kitchen and, knowing it would infuriate her, added over his shoulder, "if you need my help, I'll be in the kitchen."

Hearing her frustrated harrumph as he enetered the kitchen, he grinned and sat down at the table, thoroughly enjoying her ill humor. He knew he shouldn't needle her, but her beautiful eyes never sparkled so brightly as they did when she was mad at him.

Momiji stomped upstairs, seething, but her anger didn't last long. It was replaced with other conflicting emotions; happiness, confusion, hope and, strangely enough, fear. As Momiji stood under the water, letting it penetrate her skin with its warmth, she closed her eyes and examined each of her feelings.

She knew why she was happy. That was obvious. Kusanagi was here. With her. And being with Kusanagi always made her happy. Putting aside her happiness, she examined her confusion. Why was he here? No, she thought, that wasn't what was confusing her. He was here to help her, or so he said. The way he was acting, however was very confusing to her. Momiji tried to think back to the last time that Kusanagi had been anything but silent and unapproachable and couldn't recall when that was. Why was he acting so strange, she wondered, not that she wasn't happy about it, but she wanted to understand.

Because he was acting so differently, she knew that was where her hope came from. She hoped that he wouldn't go back to being the way he was in Tokyo before he'd left. She hoped that this change in him meant that there was a chance for them to stay together. She hoped that…Susano-oh had been right: that they were destined to be together.

Momiji opened her eyes, wiping the beads of water from her face. So, she decided, it hadn't been a dream after all. Momiji felt the fear twist inside of her. Then that meant danger. Susano-oh had said something about a new evil, and now that she had accepted it as a reality, Momiji feared what the future would bring.

Momiji turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, putting on her bathrobe. She tried to forget about her fear and focus on the happiness that being with Kusanagi brought. As long as Kusanagi was by her side, she enthused, she could face anything. Momiji bit her lip then and thought, but what if Kusanagi decided to leave again? Susano-oh had said that Kusanagi was fighting his destiny. That was why he had left in the first place.

Bind him to you, Susano-oh had said, but how was Momiji supposed to do that?

Picking up her brush she looked at her reflection in the mirror and said in a determined voice, "Kusanagi is my destiny. I'll find a way to do it, " and then grimaced as she tried to pull the brush through her hair. "But first I need to find a way to untangle this rat's nest!"

Being naturally right handed made wielding a brush left handed awkward. Especially since her hair was so long, and Momiji struggled for quite a few minutes getting extremely exasperated when she couldn't use the brush effectively. She stopped, feeling washed out all of a sudden and threw the brush on the sinktop.

"Forget this," she muttered to herself and left the bathroom.

She padded down to the kitchen and headed for the utility drawer, glancing briefly at Kusanagi. He was ignoring her, apparently engrossed in his tea and morning paper. Turning her back to him, she yanked the drawer open and shuffled through the contents until she found the scissors.

She went back upstairs and into her room where, she sat on the edge of her bed and played with the scissors for a minute, trying to get used to the feel of them in her left hand. It was going to be awkward, but, she thought, I can do it. She pulled her still wet hair to one side and raised the scissors.

Before she could make the first snip, she felt strong fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her hand away from her hair. Surprised, she looked behind her, her green eyes locking with Kusanagi's cat-like ones. Kusanagi was leaning, stretched out over the far side of the bed, one hand poised on her mattress to keep his balance while his other hand was still locked around her wrist.

"Dear god," he murmured, his eyes flicking to her robe before returning to her face, "it has a matching robe."

Looking down at the pink teddy bears on her robe, she shot him a suspicious look and demanded, "What was that?"

He didn't answer her question, though. Instead he asked one of his own.

"What are you doing, Momiji?" he wanted to know, his eyes never wavering from hers.

She would have thought it was obvious, but responded to his question anyway, "I'm going to cut my hair."

Kusanagi immediately whipped the scissors out of her hand and stood up.

"Hey," Momiji exclaimed, outraged, "give those back!"

"No." He turned and left the room and she scrambled off the bed after him.

"Kusanagi!" she called after him, but he just kept walking, going back down the stairs and into the kitchen with her tagging along after him, calling his name.

Momiji came into the kitchen just in time to see him put the scissors back in the drawer and shut it. She closed the distance between them, determined to get the scissors back, but he leaned up against the counter, in front of the drawer, his arms crossed, not budging.

"I need those scissors, Kusanagi, so please move." She was rather pleased at how polite she had managed to sound, but Kusanagi didn't look the least bit impressed by her civility. He remained motionless, not even bothering to look at her when she addressed him, instead staring at a fixed point somewhere behind her head.

"Kusanagi!" she bellowed, thoroughly out of temper, and fast losing what little energy she had left.

"You're not cutting your hair, Momiji," he told her flatly, his annoyed gaze coming back to rest on her.

"Kusanagi -" she tried again.

"I said, no."

He said it with such finality that Momiji wasn't sure what to do. Why was he being this way?

"It's my hair!" she told him, "so move!" She shoved against him, but it was like a small bird running into a brick wall; the abrupt contact dazed her but didn't phase him.

She bounced off him and stepped back glaring, "Kusanagi," she began, and then the color drained from her face. She felt the world start to tilt, and her knees started to buckle. Still weak, she had pushed her body too far, she realized too late.

Kusanagi uncrossed his arms, his annoyance evaporating, and stepped forward, concerned. "Momiji?"

"I'm all right," she told him faintly, turning towards the table, "I just need to sit down." But she hadn't even taken one step when she felt herself pitch forward, the room spinning so fast that she closed her eyes.

Momiji opened them again a few seconds later as Kusanagi scooped her up before she fell, holding her close to his body, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Without saying anything, he carried her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Momiji laid her head against him, her eyes half-closed, enjoying being close to him and thinking to herself how wonderful he smelled, earthy, like juniper and sandalwood and … so male.

"Why, thank you princess," she felt his voice rumble against her ear, and she stiffened in embarrassment, realizing that she had spoken her thoughts aloud.

They had reached her room now, and he set her down in the middle of the bed, stepping back to look critically at her. She had more color now, mostly in her cheeks due to her embarrassment, but at least she no longer looked like she was going to pass out. In fact she was fidgeting quite a bit, because of his close scrutiny, no doubt.

Momiji watched him from beneath her lashes, wishing he wouldn't tower over like that and then felt ridiculously disappointed when he turned and left the room. He was back in a flash, though, carrying a towel and her hairbrush. Surprise registered in her emerald eyes when he sat down on the bed and swiveled around into a kneeling position behind her. Momiji felt the bed sink with his weight, as he edged nearer to her until he was so close that she slid back into him, unable to sit up straight because of the indention his knees were making in the mattress. She looked straight up and met his eyes briefly before he handed her the brush and gave her a provocative smile, flinging the towel over her head, blocking her view of not just him but everything else as well.

"Hey!" she grumbled, her voice muffled by the folds of the towel, as she tried to sit up and remove it from her head. "I'd like to be able to see!"

"There's nothing to see, so be quiet and sit still," he ordered, putting his hand on top of her head until her movements subsided.

Then, he began to work the towel through her hair, removing it from her head once he was satisfied that he had gotten most of the water out of her hair. Momiji sat perfectly still, marveling at how gentle his hands were, handing him the brush when he threw the towel next to her and held his hand out for it.

Momiji sighed as she felt Kusanagi run the brush through her hair, carefully at first until all the tangles were gone and then with longer fuller strokes. Her eyes drifted closed in contentment, enjoying Kusanagi's close proximity, feeling enveloped by his strength, her body totally relaxed.

Kusanagi on the other hand, was fighting a losing battle to maintain his distance, his whole body tensed with the effort. He clenched his teeth and fought the desire to lean forward and bury his face in her neck as yet another wave of fragrance wafted from her hair, set free by the brush. God, but she smelled good, he groaned to himself, forcing himself to concentrate on the brush as it slid through her hair. He couldn't believe she was getting him this worked up without even trying, but she was.

He put the brush down, and ran his gloved fingers through her hair, overcoming his desire to take the black leather off so he might wrap the silken chestnut strands around his fingers. Instead he began loosely parting her hair off into three sections and proceeded to fashion a clumsy braid.

Momiji felt his fingers working through her hair and she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice, "Where did you learn to braid hair?"

"I've watched you do it at least a hundred times," he responded automatically, not thinking about what he had said.

"But that's not possible," Momiji contradicted, "I never wear my hair braided."

"Yes you do," he said, again responding automatically without thinking.

"No, Kusanagi, I don't. The only time I braid my hair is at night when I get ready for bed."

Kusanagi's hands hesitated only slightly as he realized his mistake. If she thought it all the way through, she would realize that he had been watching her at night when she thought she was alone.

"No, no," Kusanagi responded as his brain searched feverishly for a way to keep her from comprehending the truth, "I'm sure that you have worn it in a braid a couple of times."

Momiji gave serious consideration to his question, much more than it deserved, as far as he was concerned, but was glad she had when she replied slowly, "Well, there were those couple of times that you helped me clean out Mr. Kunikida's garage and again when you helped with his fish pond that I had braided it. But that hardly amounts to hundreds of times."

"Well, I might have exaggerated a bit. You know I'm a fast learner," he gave a short , uncomfortable laugh and winced at how stilted he sounded. But again, Momiji's naiveté stepped to the fore and she seemed not to sense his discomfort, taking his words at face value.

Finally he was finished and he scrambled off the bed, turning away from her to walk to the window, giving himself the time he needed to cool off.

Feeling much stronger now, Momiji slid to the edge of the bed and stood up. She went to her dresser and looked in the mirror at his handywork, saying "It would have been a lot easier if you had just let me cut it."

She turned to look at him, his back to her as he stood holding the curtain back from the window, watching the sun rise. She didn't think he was going to answer her and when he did, it sounded like she had dragged the words from him. "I like it long."

Momiji's face registered pleasure and surprise. Hope and something akin to ambition flared in her green eyes, and if Kusanagi had turned around and seen her face he would have realized what a big mistake he had made in admitting his preference.

That was the first time he had given her a compliment, Momiji thought to herself, and although it wasn't much of a compliment, it proved that he had been paying attention to her after all.

Now it was up to her to find a way to break through his defenses and lay claim to his heart for herself.

"I'll go down and start breakfast," Kusanagi told her without looking at her, "while you get dressed."

Momiji didn't say anything as he left the room, but Susano-oh's words were emblazoned in her heart and mind: _he is your destiny._

"You belong to me, Kusanagi, she whispered fiercely, "I'll make you see that once and for all."


	6. 5: A New Enemy

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FIVE

Ryoko's phone was ringing. She pulled it from her pocket and answered it. It was Daitetsu.

"What have you found out?" he wanted to know.

Ryoko looked around the small wooded area behind the local high school that had been cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape.

"Not a whole lot," she told him, watching Kome stoop to look at the crushed metal frame of what was left of a bicycle. "There are some tracks here, and one of the trees has slash marks in it, but that's about it."

"Have you found Sakura yet," he wanted to know.

"Not yet, but we're working on it."

As she spoke she saw Shunichi Sugishita's little red sports car pull up next to the rented car she was driving and she quickly finished her report to Kunikida before ringing off. Putting her phone back in her coat pocket, she pushed her short black hair away from her eyes and watched Sugishita climb under the tape and approach her and Kome.

He was dressed in casual slacks and a bright yellow shirt, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Ryoko rolled her eyes when she saw the glasses. It was a cloudy afternoon, so what did he need them for, she wondered aloud.

"Probably thinks it makes him look cool," Kome groused.

"Or maybe it's to keep that shirt of his from blinding him," Ryoko replied in a droll way.

"Good afternoon ladies," Sugi said with a cheesy grin as he stopped next to them.

Ryoko ignored the greeting, his grin setting her teeth on edge and cut to the heart of the matter before he could waste any more of her time. "I thought Sakura was coming with you," she remarked, "you did find her, didn't you, Sugi? Or are you just here on a social call?"

"Of course I found her," he said with a casual wave of his hand, "don't I always come through for you, Ryoko?"

Kome rolled her eyes and turned away in disgust, leaving Ryoko to deal with Sugi on her own. "Well, where is she then?"

Sugishita looked around and then at his watch. "She should have been here by now."

"Idiot," Ryoko muttered. But as if on cue, a cab pulled up and Sakura climbed out of the back.

She was dressed with the usual Sakura flair. Despite the cold winter air, she was wearing high heels, a mini-skirt, a tight mid-riff shirt and a little leather jacket with a fur collar that was more for fashion than for warmth.

"Hi, everybody," she gushed, "you can relax now. The famous and talented Sakura has arrived."

"Give me a break," Kome mumbled hunching her shoulders and shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Sugi, be a doll and pay the driver for me," Sakura said, flashing her crimson eyes at an appreciative Sugishita, who had slid his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose to take a better look at her breasts and the shapely curve of her backside.

Ryoko gave him a sharp shove, saying through clenched teeth, "Quit ogling her assets and go pay the driver."

Sugishita stumbled forward under the pressure from Ryoko's shove and gave her a sheepish grin. "Okay! Keep your hair on – I'm going."

Ryoko turned her attention to Sakura, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her forward through the grass and across the soft earth.

"Hey!" Sakura complained as the spikes to her heels sank into the ground, in jeopardy of being broken off, "watch it. I just bought these shoes, and they were expensive!"

'Well then, you shouldn't have worn them out here, should you?" Ryoko replied ruthlessly. "You're not here to add color, Sakura. We called you to get your assessment . So assess!" Ryoko directed waving her hand in front of her.

Sakura shot Ryoko a fulminating glance which Ryoko ignored and then turned her crimson eyes to the crime scene. Kome came to stand by Ryoko's side to watch Sakura, now joined by Sugi, examining the evidence.

Sakura walked around, without touching anything. She stopped by a tree that had three long slashes across it at eye level, the gouges running deep into the wood of the tree and then turned and crossed to where the body had been found, looking down at the ground where the earth had been churned up. She crouched down examining the soft pile of soil and the tracks next to it, following them as they ranged across the ground beginning at the road and ending next to the pile of earth.

"So," Ryoko asked her as she finished looking around.

"Hmmm," Sakura mulled, pushing the sandy, wind blown locks of hair out of her eyes, "Old and new souls. How odd," she murmured to herself and then louder, "I feel a sense of evil here, but not an overwhelming one. Whatever it was, it's moved on and probably won't come back."

Ryoko remained silent waiting for her to continue and when she didn't, said faintly, "That's it? That's all you can sense?"

Sakura shrugged her shoulders and Kome added in disgust, "Jeez, Sakura, what do they pay you for!? What a load of crap! It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that whatever did this isn't here anymore! Can't you come up with something better than that?"

Ryoko grabbed Kome by the arm, "Calm down," she said, and then to Sakura, "I want you to go over to the morgue. Maybe you'll be able to sense something more if you take a look at the victims."

Sakura sighed in boredom, "Okay, whatever you say. Come on pretty boy," she said, addressing Sugishita, "you can drive me in that lovely car of yours."

Kome and Ryoko got into the rental car, with Kome muttering heavily under her breath all the way to the morgue. Finally Ryoko said, "Come on, Kome. You shouldn't let her get to you like that."

To which Kome made no reply, but at least she ceased her complaints. Kunikida was outside the morgue smoking when they drove up. He came over and opened Ryoko's door.

"I see you found her," he commented, pointing to Sugi's parked car, as Ryoko unfolded herself from the driver's seat.

"Yep, we found her all right," Ryoko replied, "but I don't know how much help she's going to be."

"So she wasn't able to detect anything at the crime scene?"

Ryoko shook her head, "Nothing but a vague sense of evil, or so she says. That's why I brought her here. Maybe we can get something more out of her once she sees the bodies."

Kunikida nodded, and Ryoko and Kome followed him inside. Sakura was already in the examination room looking at the bodies when they went in. Sugishita was with her, but his aversion to gore far outweighed his preoccupation with Sakura's luscious figure, so he kept his distance, leaning against the wall next to the door while he waited for her to finish her examination.

"This is not good," Sakura told them as she looked at the body of the young boy. "Whatever did this," she told them pointing to the burn mark on the boy's forehead, "is feeding on the flow of a human's life force, drawing it out through the third eye."

"But what is it?" Kunikida wanted to know, "what kind of being could do that?"

Sakura shifted her gaze away from the boy and on to Kunikida, "I don't know," she told him, "it doesn't feel like anything that I've ever felt before, but – " she looked back down at the boy, trying to understand exactly what it was she was feeling. "Have you talked to Momiji and Kusanagi?"

"No," Kunikida replied, "I was hoping to avoid that."

"Well, boss man," Sakura said turning away and walking to the door, "I don't think you're going to be able to avoid it much longer, 'cause whatever did this isn't going away. It's just going to keep getting stronger and stronger."

Kunikida gave a defeated sigh, "All right then. I guess I'll go talk to Kusanagi."

At his words, Sakura eyes lit up with interest, "I'll come with you. I'm curious to see what Carrot Boy has to say about this."

Momiji squinted, looking down at the numbers she had compiled in her data on the iwatto that still needed to be added to her computer. Water temperature, barometric pressure, average water depth, blah, blah, blah, she thought. She crinkled her nose in frustration, her eyes sliding over to Kusanagi's portfolio and camera for the hundredth time that afternoon as she sat, leaning over her laptop sitting on the kitchen table. Kusanagi watched her watch him in secret amusement.

He was sitting next to her, elbows resting on the table as he rearranged his photographs, adding some new ones that he had taken while away from Tokyo.. Momiji couldn't seem to contain her curiosity about them, wanting to see them because they were so beautiful and feeling peeved at the same time that Kusanagi apparently hadn't been too broken up about their separation, getting on with his life without her.

"Is that Bandai-Asahi Park? Those are some very lovely photographs," Momiji remarked, craning her neck, looking at the photographs, unable to keep the wistfulness and envy out of her voice.

Unbelievable, she thought. She was actually jealous of his camera! But she couldn't seem to help herself. It was as if his camera had taken on a living, breathing existence. It had been with him, wherever he went, his companion and silent witness, bearing the gift of his vision, of what moved him and what he wished to remember. She wished with all her soul that it had been her that he had wanted to share these things with. She wanted to be the one to bear witness to his vision, to see the world through his eyes, and have him share with her all the things in life that he found beautiful.

It was a bleak feeling and she tried to push it away, but some of what she felt must have shown on her face for he said to her, "They're only pictures Momiji."

Her green eyes slid from the pictures to his face, and seeing his searching gaze, she buried her head behind her computer screen. Her face turned red, and she kicked herself for being so transparent with her emotions. She could still feel him looking at her and she forced herself to keep her eyes pinned to her data sheets, her eyes almost crossing from the effort. She felt her shoulders sag in relief as she heard a knock at the front door and Kusanagi turned his attention away from her.

"Were you expecting someone?" he asked her, as she got up from her chair.

She shook her head and went to the door, Kusanagi following close behind her. Her mouth fell open in shock as her eyes swept from Mr. Kunikida to rest upon Sakura Yamazaki standing next to him.

"Sakura?" Momiji breathed in amazement, her eyes sweeping up and down Sakura's figure, taking in the black spandex and leather that Sakura was sporting.

From behind her she heard Kusanagi remark dryly, "Why, hello, Cherry Blossom. I see you're still shopping in the kiddie section for your clothes, eh? I think you might want to try bumping them up a size or two, since you appear to be bursting at the seams. It would be a relief to everyone, I'm sure, since I, myself live in constant fear of having my eye put out by a flying button whenever I'm around you."

Sakura tossed her head and chose to ignore his comment, instead focusing her attention on Momij and her current choice of apparel. Momiji was wearing a shapeless sweatshirt and her favorite pair of jeans that, by now, were pretty shapeless as well, her clothes hanging on her like she was a wooden stick.

"Boring!" Sakura exclaimed, pointing to Momiji who self-consciously stepped back, her back bumping into Kusanagi's hard chest, which rebounded her forward again. Sakura gave a sultry laugh, and then dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "You made a much more interesting fashion statement when you were in Tokyo. Now they might as well hang you out to scare the crows."

Momiji's face puckered into a frown and she opened her mouth to defend herself but found herself gently pushed to the side as Kusanagi stepped in front of her.

"What are you doing here, Sakura?" Kusanagi asked with blunt hostility.

"I might ask you the same thing, Kusanagi," she replied, her crimson eyes sliding slyly from him to where Momiji peeked out from behind his back.

"That's enough," Mr. Kunikida spoke up, cutting off their exchange. "Momiji, can we come in for a minute?" He asked in a more pleasant voice, his brown eyes meeting the green ones peering around Kusanagi.

"Of course," Momiji murmured and Kusanagi reluctantly stepped back to let Sakura and Kunikida enter.

"Why did you bring her here?" He muttered as Kunikida passed him.

Kunikida sent him a speaking glance and surreptitiously pointed towards Momiji trying to assume an innocent expression when Momiji turned and gave him a smile, asking him if he would like some tea.

"Umm, Sakura, why don't you go and help Momiji get us all some tea?" Kunikida suggested.

Sakura's head shot around, her eyes widening first in amazement, then in disgust. "You're joking right?" she laughed, and when no one else joined in, said sourly, "I don't do domestic. Let little Momiji do it by herself."

"Sakura," Kusanagi said disparagingly, "Momiji has a broken arm. Why don't you think of someone else beside yourself for a change and give her a hand."

"It's okay," Momiji mumbled, not wanting anyone's pity; especially Kusanagi's, "I think I can manage it by myself." She smiled brightly at everyone and left the room.

After she was gone, Kusanagi stared coldly at Sakura. She tried ignoring him for a few seconds, looking at her perfectly manicured nails and then at her perfectly sculpted legs, perfectly crossed, thinking to distract him with her good looks and charm. Wondering if it was working, she glanced casually in his direction, her face collapsing into a pout.

"All right fine, " she huffed ungraciously into Kusanagi's unrelenting demeanor, "I'll watch the water boil, but that's it!" She stomped toward the kitchen, her rear end jiggling precariously with every step.

"I'm relying on you to keep her busy for a few minutes, Sakura. I need to talk to Kusanagi alone."

Sakura didn't say anything, flicking her sandy hair over her shoulder in a sullen manner as she entered the kitchen.

Kusanagi barely waited for the door to close behind her before he fixed his attention on Kunikida. "So are you ready to tell me what's going on?"

Kunikida sighed heavily. "You're not one to beat about the bush, are you?"

Kusanagi leaned forward in his chair. "Not when it comes to protecting to Momiji."

"Well," Kunikida began, "I'm not so sure that this is about Momiji."

"Then why are you here?"

Kunikida got restlesstly to his feet and paced around the small room. "Because I'm not so sure that this _isn't_ about Momiji, either."

Kusanagi got to his feet too and stepped in front of Kunikida, forcing him to a halt. "If you're worried about your 'confidentiality', don't," Kusanagi told him shortly, "I couldn't care less about all your little governmental secrets. My main priority has always been and always will be protecting Momiji. If it doesn't concern Momiji, then it's just as well forgotten, as far as I'm concerned."

Kunikida shook his head and looked away from Kusanagi's bold gaze. "It's not that, Kusanagi. Momiji is the most precious thing in the world to me besides my wife and I trust you to take care of her. If I trust you to take care of her, don't you think I would know that I could trust you to maintain any secret that I had, no matter how great or small it might be? No, the real reason I didn't want to tell you was because I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. You and she deserve a little peace. "

"Peace?" Kusanagi laughed incredulously, "even if the world stood still, there would never be any peace for me around Momiji."

Kunikida looked at him in an odd way. "What does that mean?"

Kusanagi ran an exasperated hand through his hair and shook his head. "Forget it. It doesn't mean anything. Momiji just has a way of getting under my skin, that's all."

Kunikida's eyes flashed with understanding, but he didn't say anything. Instead he returned to the sofa and sat down. "I need you to come to Wakasa with me. Today. There have been some more attacks and I want to see what you think – if you can pick up on anything."

"What? Like Aragami?" Kusanagi wanted to know.

"Maybe," Kunikida admitted, "but maybe not. That's why I want you there in Wakasa. If it is Aragami, then maybe you'll be able to sense something. But I don't want Momiji to know about it just yet. She hasn't had a chance to recover yet and I don't want to alarm her unnecessarily."

"What about Sakura?" Kusanagi wanted to know.

"She's already been to the crime scene and seen the victims. She couldn't give us anything concrete. She suggested that I call you in and I agreed."

"How generous of her," Kusanagi replied acerbically, cutting off the rest of his comment as he heard Momiji's voice approaching the kitchen door.

"No, Sakura! Let me do it." Momiji said, her voice raised in panic. There was a loud crash of china shattering against the stone floor and then silence.

In a low voice, Kusanagi told Kunikida, "Tell me where it is. I'll meet you there."

A few seconds later, Momiji and Sakura came out of the kitchen, empty handed, Momiji wearing a turbulent expression and Sakura a petulant one.

"Well don't blame me," Sakura said matter of factly.

"But I do blame you," Momiji said through clenched teeth.

"Well you were the one that dropped the tray," Sakura replied heatedly.

"Only because you managed to sling boiling water all over my hand!"

"What?" Kunikida demanded in alarm, shooting to his feet and grabbing up Momiji's hand. Kusanagi too had risen to his feet and they both crowded around Momiji, looking at the angry, red welts forming on the back of Momiji's hand and wrist.

Momiji managed to pull her hand free from Kunikida's grasp, pulling her sweatshirt sleeve down to her fingertips to hide the burn. "It's okay," she murmured lightly, "she mostly missed, but only because I dropped the tea tray to avoid the water."

"Well, what about me," Sakura wailed, holding up her own blistered fingers for them to view.

"I tried to tell you not to pick up the kettle, that the ceramic handle gets really hot, Sakura, but you wouldn't listen."

"Owwhhow," she wailed, her eyes squeezed shut dramatically, "my pinky hurts."

Kusanagi just looked at her dispassionately and rolled his eyes. "Is your IQ smaller than your dress size, or haven't you figured out what HOT means yet?" he asked caustically, angry at her for hurting Momiji with her carelessness.

Sakura seemed to immediately forget about her injuries and she opened her eyes to shoot Kusanagi a defiant glance.

"I am very well aware of the meaning of the word HOT. Just ask my last boyfriend, or would you care for me to demonstrate it for you?"

"No thanks, I think I'll pass," Kusanagi jeered.

Kunikida stepped between them, like a parent separating two brawling children and since there was no tea to serve and Momiji couldn't make any more because her tea service had been shattered to tiny bits, Kunikida took Sakura by the arm and dragged her towards the door before she could make any more trouble.

"I really just stopped by to see how you were feeling," Mr. Kunikida told Momiji as he dragged Sakura over to the car, her heels clomping and scraping against the drive as she tried to keep up with him. "I'm sorry for all the trouble!" He shoved Sakura into the car and turned and waved again, before climbing into the car himself and driving away.

After they had gone, Momiji stood at the open door, her arms crossed against the cold, staring after them.

"I wonder why he brought her here?" she said, mostly to herself and felt Kusanagi tugging on the back of her shirt, pulling her inside.

"Who knows," he lied, shutting the door. He stepped closer to her, taking her hand and pushing up her sleeve.

Momiji felt her breath catch in her throat at his closeness, and kept her eyes centered in the middle of his chest, feeling suddenly too shy to look up into his face for some odd reason.

She felt his long fingers, still in their black driving gloves, lightly trace the redness on the back of her hand and her breathing became even more difficult.

"That woman is a menace," Kusanagi muttered under his breath, but in a very normal voice as he let her hand go. "Do you have anything you can put on that?" he wanted to know, still standing too close to allow her to think clearly.

Momiji nodded and edged away from him slightly, hoping that the distance would help her heart, which had become lodged in her throat, to relocate back into her chest and allow her to speak. "It's really not that bad," Momiji said, but Kusanagi disagreed with her, asking her again if she had anything to apply to the burn.

"There should be some burn ointment in my first aid kit," she told him.

Kusanagi asked her where the first aid kit was, and then told her to sit down, which she did, waiting patiently for him to return. Kusanagi climbed the stairs two at a time and went into the bathroom, looking on the shelf where Momiji said the first aid kit would be. Everything was neatly arranged so he found it rather quickly. He opened it up, took the burn ointment out and slipped it into his pocket. He hated doing this, but he needed an excuse to leave without arousing her suspicion and this was the only way he could think of.

Lucky for him that Momiji was right. The burn really wasn't that bad and didn't really need any ointment, but it was the only excuse he could think of on such short notice. He went into Momiji's spare bedroom, his bedroom for the time being, and pulled his black coat out of the closet. Folding it over his arm, he returned back downstairs.

"I couldn't find any," Kusanagi told her briefly as he returned to the living room, slipping his coat on and heading to the front door. "I'll go get you some."

Momiji stood abruptly and stammered, "oh, but you don't have to do that, Kusanagi. I don't want you to go to all the trouble –"

"Don't be silly," he told her in dampening accents, "it's no trouble at all. I'll be back as soon as I can," he said without looking at her, and opened the door. Momiji tried to stop him, but he was not to be dissuaded, infuriating her by saying as he left, "be a good girl while I'm gone. And don't touch my camera."

Momiji ground her teeth in irritation at that.

"As if I would!" she muttered, incensed, but Kusanagi didn't hear her. He was already gone.

Kusanagi arrived behind the local high school long before Kunikida; the advantages of traveling by air. He wanted to make this quick and if he had ridden his bike, it would have taken too much time. There was no one around right now and Kusanagi didn't approach the yellow tape marker. Instead, he turned in the other direction and began wandering through the trees. It was Friday afternoon, and the school was unusually quiet.

It must have been a kid from the school that had been killed, Kusanagi thought. That would explain the silence; the local officials would have taken every precaution to ensure the safety of all the students until they were certain that the threat of danger had passed.

A light rain began to fall through the trees, hissing and popping against the brown leaves scattered across the ground and Kusanagi turned up the collar of his long, black coat. He took one more look around and then turned and headed back in the other direction. As he neared the yellow tape, Kunikida's car pulled off the road and onto the grass and Kunikida and Sakura climbed out.

"Sorry," Kunikida said, his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his overcoat as he approached Kusanagi. "You haven't been waiting too long, have you?"

Kusanagi shook his head and Kunikida stepped under the marker, followed closely by Kusanagi. Sakura on the other hand had only made it a few feet from the car. The rain was making the soft ground even softer and her heels were sinking so deeply into the earth that every time she took a step, it pulled her shoes off. She lifted her foot, curling her toes to try and keep her shoe on and windmilled her arms to avoid toppling over.

Sakura cursed heavily under her breath as she watched the retreating backs of the two men, her mood not improved by Kusanagi's casual words of dismissal. "Your not exactly dressed for field work, Faith Healer," he said without even looking at her, "so why don't you stay by the car. We really don't need you over here anyway."

Sakura shouted an obscene suggestion at Kusanagi, which he just ignored and bent to look at the crumpled metal frame of the bicycle. Kusanagi had seen wrecked bikes before but never one quite as odd as this one. It wasn't just bent and crushed from impact, it was actually twisted like a corkscrew in the middle, and crushed like an accordian.

"As you've most likely concluded," Kunikida spoke, standing next to him, "the victim of this particular attack was nothing more than a boy."

"Do they know when it happened?" Kusanagi asked, standing and moving on, "was it daylight?"

"Closer to dusk," Kunikida told him. "Most of the victims have gone missing at night, but not all of them."

Kusanagi listened to his explanation not making any comments as he crouched down and looked at the long, deep narrow indentions next to the footprints of the boy, both darkened with blood spatters. With his eyes, he traced the outline of the claws set close together and then another set where the outline of the boy's body had been made with white tape.

He stood abruptly and pointed down to the tracks, "Did you see this?"

Kuikiida came over and looked down, wondering what he was looking for. "What?"

"It changed," Kusanagi said. He frowned and narrowed his gaze as he looked around at the rest of the prints.

"What do you mean, it changed," Kunikida asked.

"I mean, it literally changed its appearance."

Kunikida glanced up at him, "how can you tell that? These tracks look the same to me as those over there."

"Well they're not," Kusanagi replied with a frown. "These are shallower, and the gait is farther apart. That suggests not only a change in size but also in weight."

Kunikida looked back down, but still didn't see any difference. "Are you sure?" he asked, turning his head to follow Kusanagi's movement as he moved over to look at the ground near the tree scarred with slash marks. "They look the same to me."

"I know what I see, Kunikida," Kusanagi retorted. "Look here," Kusanagi motioned him over to the tree and pointed down.

Kunikida came over and Kusanagi pointed to the boy's footprints next to the tree. "He must have been running from it and it struck out at him, hitting the tree instead. But look at how far back it was standing when it struck." Kusanagi moved to stand next to the attacker's tracks to demonstrate his point.

"You're right," Kunikida said, "it would have had to change its appearance drastically to be able to hit the tree from there. Is it Aragami?" Kunikida asked heavily, dreading Kusanagi's answer.

Kusanagi didn't answer, turning his back to Kunikida and walking back over to the outline of the boy's body, passing it and stopping next to the soft pile of churned up dirt. "It travels underground," he murmured. Kusanagi crouched down, placing his hand on the ground and closed his eyes. He opened them again as Kunikida approached him.

"Is is Aragami?" Kunikida asked again.

Kusanagi stood up, frowning. "I don't know. It's gone now, whatever it is."

"How can you tell that it won't be back."

"I didn't say it wouldn't be back, I just said that it was gone. It travels underground, or at least it _can_ travel underground if it wants to. If it were underground close by, I would be able to feel it."

Sakura finally made it over to them, her muddy shoes dangling from her fingers. "Well, Carrot Boy, what did you find?"

"Not much," he told her shortly, looking down at her feet, white from cold and covered in mud. "Are you nuts?" He asked her, "It's wintertime, Sakura," he informed her in case she had forgotten, and she made a surprised _whoop!_ as he picked her up.

"Kusanagi!" she breathed, batting her eyelashes at him, "you really go all out when you want to sweep a girl off her feet, don't you?"

"Save it for someone who finds your overblown charms appealing," he told her in clipped accents and received a smack to his head for his effort.

He dumped her to the ground next to the car and she would have fallen onto her rear had Kunikida, who had been following close behind them, not stretched out his arm to steady her.

"Has anyone been attacked by this thing and lived?" Kusanagi asked slowly, looking back through the falling rain at the yellow tape in the gathering gloom of the evening. Kunikida shook his head and Kusanagi continued his questions, "How many victims?"

"Twelve so far, ten in and around Sappora, the other two here, all within the space of about three weeks."

Kusanagi thought hard. "A creature that prefers the dark, traveling through the earth and attacking mostly at night, it's shape adaptable with incredible strength, " he said, thinking of the bent bicycle. "It could be Aragami," he murmured, trying to find a hidden correlation between what he saw here and what Moe had told him about Momiji's accident and the incident with his mitamas. "It could be… but it doesn't feel…right." He said the words softly, mostly to himself and then focused his gaze on Kunikida's tired and stressed figure.

It was apparent that he had been putting in a lot of over time on this case, and apparently with good reason. But there was something in Kunikida's brown eyes, a kind of wariness when he looked around, that couldn't be explained by what Kusanagi had seen so far.

"What is it you're not telling me?" Kusanagi wanted to know. Kunikida didn't say anything and Sakura snorted, drawing Kusanagi's attention to her.

"You haven't told him about the bodies yet, boss man," she said.

"What about the bodies?" Kusanagi inquired with an eyebrow raised at Kunikida.

"This thing is not just killing its victims in regular animal fashion," Sakura responded before Kunikida could say anything, "It's draining the spiritual energy from it's victims from here," Sakura pointed to the small dot on Kusanagi's forehead. "It leaves a mark on the forehead and the victim's entire body is affected by it. "

"What kind of mark?" Kusanagi questioned.

"Sort of like a shadow or a burn," she replied vaguely.

"No," Kunikida interjected heavily, turning away from them, fighting with himself over his decision to tell Kusanagi about the one mark that had been different. He needed to know, Kunikida thought to himself. After looking at this recent attack through Kusanagi's perspective, it became clear that it had been more than an aberration in the shape of the mark. It was a sign of things to come. "There was one time that the mark was different," Kunikida turned back and told Kusanagi watching the change in Kusanagi's face and body as he learned the truth. "That one time, it had the definite shape of a mitama."

Kusanagi felt the hot denial rush through him at Kunikida's words. No, he thought angrily. No, dammit!

"What?" Sakura yelped, "you didn't tell me about that one," she shot an accusing glance at Kunikida as Kusanagi struggled to come to grips with the truth.

"I had been hoping that its shape had just been a coincidence," Kunikida admitted, "but after what you and Kusanagi have told me, I am fast coming to the conclusion that it was no coincidence."

"So it is Aragami," Sakura said and they all fell silent as each considered the ramifications of her statement.

"Does that mean that Susano-oh has returned as well? And what about Kaede?" Kunikida wondered aloud.

"What about Momiji?" Sakura spoke up. "Do you think they'll come after her again?"

"Momiji will be protected no matter what," Kusanagi replied in an uncompromising way. He had lost her once already. He was not about to do so again. "She will not be sacrificed again. I won't allow it."

"Neither will I," replied Kunikida. "I think it's time to reassemble the original members of the TAC. Maybe with a little luck we'll be able to stop this thing before it gets any stronger."


	7. 6: Wet Cement

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER SIX

Momiji stirred the steaming pot on the stove and glanced out of the window over the kitchen sink. It was getting dark, and she was getting worried. Kusanagi should have been back by now, she thought, biting her lip. She put the lid on the pot, turned the heat down and left the kitchen. As she crossed the living room, the telephone rang and she picked it up.

"Momiji?" Midori's anxious voice came across the line. "Oh, thank goodness, you're safe! I'm at Mom and Dad's and I just called home to check my messages. There was one from Ms. Matsudaira saying that you had been in an accident. I got so worried. You're okay aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Momiji assured her, and then, "I'm sorry for not calling you sooner, but the night you left your first message was the night I had my wreck. What was it that you needed to talk to me about?"

There was a pause as Midori's mind switched gears and then she said, "Oh, oh, that!" she laughed a little and said, "it's about Kusanagi. I think he misses you, Momiji."

Momiji's chest suddenly got very heavy and her ears started burning. She could have told Midori that Kusanagi was there now, but she was more interested in hearing why Midori thought Kusanagi missed her. "So you've seen Kusanagi, then?" Momiji asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

"Not since I left that first message for you, but he came by the lab several times to talk to me and even took me home once. At first it puzzled me," Midori explained, "'cause I wasn't sure why he was there. I thought that maybe he was just checking up on me to make sure that I was okay, because he knew how much you used to help me – sorta' like he was offering his moral support. And then, I realized that every time he came by, it was because he was trying to find out about you."

"Really?" Momiji asked, feeling pleased.

"Yeah. He was always asking if I had heard from you yet and then the night that he took me home, he asked me if I had been to your new house yet. He was really disappointed when I told him no, and couldn't give him any details of what it was like. I did give him your phone number though. Has he called you yet?"

"Ummm, yes, he did," Momiji mumbled, biting her lip uncomfortably, "the same night that you did, as a matter of fact."

"He did?" Midori asked, sounding relieved, "I'm so glad Momiji. I knew that he liked you, but for some reason he just seems so shy around you."

Kusanagi, shy? Momiji laughed at that and Midori asked her why she was laughing.

"Well, Midori, it's just that I've never considered Kusanagi as shy," Momiji replied thinking about what made Kusanagi, Kusanagi. "He's smart and handsome, he can be sweet when he wants to be and he's very talented," she said thinking of his portfolio. "He is also arrogant, overbearing, fatheaded and, if you ask him, never wrong. Out of all the ways I could describe him, I would have never used the word shy."

"But he is," Midori insisted, "maybe not in the normal way, Momiji, but it's still there. I've seen him look at you," Midori's words were reminiscent of Ms. Matsudaira's, "and then, he gets this uncomfortable look on his face, like he's not quite sure what he should do. It's funny sometimes, because the minute you turn around or the minute he thinks he's being watched, his expression changes to that bored look he gets. I know how much he means to you, so don't give up on him yet, Momiji. Just give him some time. He'll come around, you'll see."

_…he denies his destiny because of his desire to be human – for you_…

Susano-oh's words floated through Momiji's mind reinforcing what Midori was saying and Momiji smiled into the phone. "Don't worry Midori, I haven't given up on him," she assured her, "I don't think I ever will."

They talked for a few more minutes, making plans to get together in the near future and then Midori rang off. Momiji put the phone down and crossed to the living room window to look for the object of their conversation. His bike was parked in the drive, but he was nowhere to be seen, and it had been dark for over an hour now.

Where could he be? Momiji silently lamented.

She pushed her feet into her shoes and opened the front door. Cold air rushed against her face as she peered out into the darkness. Stepping over the threshold, she wrapped her arms around her body trying to protect herself from the cold and the steady rain that had begun to fall. Momiji shivered, the hard cast on her right arm pressing uncomfortably against her ribs. She went over to Kusanagi's bike and then down the drive, looking up and down the street, getting more worried by the minute. The street was silent, except for the sound of the rain hissing against the pavement, and Kusanagi was nowhere to be seen.

She had only been standing there for several minutes, but already the rain had soaked through the thickness of her sweatshirt and she knew that she needed to go back inside. But Momiji couldn't help feeling that something was wrong, so she stayed where she was for a minute longer. She sensed something out of place, but it was a vague feeling, a faraway feeling, and she closed her eyes to try and concentrate on it, so she might better understand it.

She reached deep into her thoughts, trying to focus on the nebulous feeling, but the rain began to drip from the end of her nose, interfering in her concentration and she could feel her bangs sticking to her forehead in wet clumps, dribbling water into her eyes. It was no use, she thought as a shiver ran up her spine from the cold and the rain. The feeling had faded so she opened her eyes and looked up and down the street one more time. Still no Kusanagi. Momiji sighed deeply.

She'd better go in before she got sick, she thought. She put a finger up to the tip of her nose, brushing the drops of water hanging there away, and turned to go back in the house. As she swung around, she saw a shadowy mass looming behind her and her heart jumped into her throat. Momiji gasped, frightened by its sudden appearance and she stumbled backwards.

"What the heck are you doing out here, Momiji?"

It was Kusanagi, she realized with relief as he reached out and grasped her arms, pulling her into his chest to keep her from falling over. He was soaking wet, she realized, but she didn't care, she thought as she grabbed the sleeves to his black coat, her fingers tightening on the wet fabric as her nose was squashed flat against the hard planes of his chest. She let her forehead drop against him for a moment, glad that he was safe, and feeling safe being so near him. She felt him give her a slight push, holding her away from him and so she stepped back and looked up at him.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked again, his voice sounding angry..

"I was looking for you," she told him, "you've been gone a long time and I was getting worried."

Kusanagi frowned down at her. He would have been there a lot sooner, but he had forgotten that he was supposed to be getting some burn ointment and he had had to double back for it. "You shouldn't be out here. It's dangerous," he muttered, grabbing her arm and dragging her back towards the house.

"Dangerous?" she echoed, stumbling to keep up with his long strides, "why would you say that? This is a very quiet neighborhood, and I was standing in my own driveway."

Kusanagi didn't reply for minute. He couldn't tell her about the Aragami. Before Kusanagi had left Wakasa, he and Kunikida and had decided that until Momiji was stronger, the TAC would have to function without her.

"Forget it, Momiji. You just shouldn't be out in the rain. You'll get sick," he told her as he opened her front door and pushed her through.

"You're one to talk," she said sourly, getting slightly irritated with his highhanded attitude, "you're much wetter than I am."

"Yes, but I'm part plant – water is good for me - and I never get sick," he shot back in a condescending manner, and then, "what's that smell?"

"You may be part plant, Kusanagi, but you're also part human, so you're bound to be susceptible… what smell?" Momiji wanted to know.

Kusanagi's nostrils flared and then he grimaced, "It smells like – burnt rice."

Momiji's eyes widened in horror and she pushed past Kusanagi, wailing, "My dinner!"

Kusanagi watched her tear across the living room and go skidding into the kitchen. He took his shoes and coat off, a big smile curving his lips when he heard Momiji's, "Oh, crap!" coming from the kitchen.

"I wonder what she's done this time," he murmured to himself in amused interest as he walked towards the kitchen.

Momiji turned the stove off and grabbed the saucepan off the burner. It was smoking rather ominously and Momiji gingerly carried it over to the sink. She took the lid off, looked down and moaned. The vegetables were soggy, most of the beef was hard and dry and a good amount of rice had gotten burnt, sticking to the bottom of the pan.

"Oh, crap!" she cried in frustration. She had worked so hard to prepare dinner, her efforts clumsy and slow since she had only her left hand. It had been perfect half an hour ago, she thought woefully. If only Kusanagi hadn't taken so long… Maybe, it could be still be salvaged, she thought, picking up a wooden spoon and poking it around in the pan.

"Eeyeew," Momiji heard Kusanagi say as he peered over her shoulder, his chin dripping wetly onto her shoulder, "so that's what that smell was."

Momiji clenched her jaw and rounded on Kusanagi, her eyes shooting green sparks, "This is all your fault!" she said furiously, her fingers clenched around the wooden spoon as she took a menacing step towards him.

Kusanagi's eyebrows shot up and he backed warily away, "How could you possibly blame me for this. I wasn't even here!"

"Exactly!" Momiji shrieked, "if you had been here, this never would have happened!" she fumed.

Kusanagi couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face at her illogical reasoning, but he should have tried, because Momiji hit him with the spoon when she saw it. "Ouch! Momiji!" he said, swatting at the spoon as she tried to hit him again, muttering under her breath something about fat-headed, insensitive jerks. "Stop that!!" he exclaimed backing up another step. It didn't hurt as bad as when she hit him with her cast, but it still hurt.

She glared at him, watching him retreat, and her anger burnt itself out, simmering down to minor irritation. Turning her back to him, she stomped over to the sink and started poking around in the pan again. "You'd better go change into some dry clothes," she muttered darkly over her shoulder, "it's almost dinner time."

"I'm really not all that hungry –" he began and then, when she whipped around with that dangerous glint in her eye, squeezing the spoon tightly, he hastily added, " – but I think I can manage a bite or two… I'll be back in a minute," and rapidly retreated from the kitchen.

Momiji salvaged what she could of their dinner, spooning it out onto two plates, and then went to change her own wet sweatshirt, replacing it with a warm, fuzzy, button-down sweater. When she came back down stairs, Kusanagi was back in the kitchen, having replaced his dark blue shirt with a plain grey t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. Momiji stopped in the kitchen door when she saw him. Was there ever a time, she wondered when he _didn't_ look good?

He was standing by the counter, staring dubiously at their plates, but when he heard her come in, he turned and held up his hand. Momiji's eyes slid to his hand where he held the tube of burn ointment between his long fingers. As he walked over to her, she idly noted that he wasn't wearing his black driving gloves. He had strong hands, and Momiji, deciding that she like him better without the gloves, wondered why he chose to wear them most of the time. Funny, in all the time she had known him, she had never asked him about it.

She held her hand out for the ointment as he approached her, waiting for him to give it to her.

He gave her a quizzical look and said, "Why don't you let me help you?"

Momiji snatched the ointment from him, "Thanks," she said crossly, eschewing his assistance, "but I don't need any help."

It didn't take her long to realize how wrong she was. It was a tiny tube, and she wasn't able to hold the tube in her right hand because it was so small and the cast kept her fingers mostly immobile. She tried to ignore Kusanagi as he stood in front of her, arms folded, watching her in amused silence as she stood staring at the tube for a long moment, trying to devise a way to get it open. After several failed attempts to hold it between her chest and hand without it slipping, she finally managed to anchor it, shooting Kusanagi a triumphant look as she removed the cap.

"I bet you didn't think I could do it, did you?" she said smugly.

He didn't say anything for a minute, but a slight smile curved his lips as he remained still, arms crossed looking expectantly from her face to the tube, his eyebrows raised in inquiry.

Momiji eyed him suspiciously, wondering what he found so amusing.

"Well go on, Momiji," he prodded, "let me see you put it on."

Momiji looked down at the little tube, and realized in chagrin that the only way she could squeeze the tube was with her left hand. How was she supposed to get any on the back of her left hand if she had to use her left hand to squeeze the tube? She heard Kusanagi chuckle and she shot him a resentful look.

"Never mind," she mumbled crossly and put the tube on the counter. "I don't really need it anyway."

She turned away from him but felt him grab hold of her braid, gently yanking her to a stop.

"Whoa, there, princess," he said, laughter in his voice as he picked the ointment up and came around in front of her, his eyes glinting down at her. "After all the trouble I went through to get this, the least you could do is use it."

As he spoke he stepped closer to her and took her hand and examined it, his fingers gently pushing up the soft folds of her sweater and stroking the sensitive skin of her wrist, sending a pleasant tingling sensation up her arm in the wake of his touch. Momiji was keenly aware of his closeness and she kept her eyes pinned to her wrist as he examined the burn, which was only slightly pink now and didn't hurt at all.

Momiji kept staring down, waiting for him to put the ointment on, tensely wondering what was taking so long as he continued to hold her hand without making any move to apply the ointment. Kusanagi's hand briefly tightened on her wrist and she felt him lean toward her. Momiji's gaze was drawn upward then, and as her eyes met his, she saw a burning heat. It sent a jolt of electricity through her, but the look was gone so quickly, she wondered if she had just imagined it.

Kusanagi suddenly stiffened and he dropped her hand, jerking away from her like she had burned him. Putting some distance between them, he turned his back to her, saying over his shoulder in his most offhand manner, "You're right. It doesn't really need any ointment."

He put the cap back on the ointment and laid it on the counter, still not looking at her, and to fill the awkwardness of the moment, Momiji picked up the plates, one at a time, and carried them to the table. By the time she had finished setting the table, Kusanagi seemed to be behaving normally and the awkwardness had passed. Momiji sat down at the table opposite Kusanagi and picked up her chopsticks, looking down at her food without any enthusiasm whatsoever.

Kusanagi sat and watched her face, saying, "You're not really going to eat that are you?" and received a baleful glare from her. It was a lucky thing she still didn't have her wooden spoon, he thought, or he'd be picking splinters out of his forehead.

"Yes I am," she huffed, "and so are you!"

She thrust a pair of chopsticks at him and waited for him to take a bite. Kusanagi glanced down at his plate, a look of martyrdom on his face, and took a bite. It was crunchy, it was chewy. It tasted like burnt rubber.

"Hmmm," he said as he munched, and added just to bait her, "you know, it's actually almost edible."

"GRRRRRR!" she growled, gritting her teeth and he hid his smile by taking another bite.

He watched her struggle to overcome her irritation, quite impressed when she took a deep breath and managed to regain her self-control. He didn't say anything else, thinking he had riled her enough for one evening, so they each crunched through their dinner in silence for a few moments.

Momiji, did her best not to look repulsed as she took another bite of her dinner, knowing that it would only incite Kusanagi to tease her more if she did. She was concentrating so hard on maintaining a placid expression that when Kusanagi addressed her, she managed to hang on to her composure, but just barely.

"Momiji, do you remember the priest?" he asked suddenly, looking up from his dinner.

Momiji stopped in mid-chew, and tried to swallow her food without it lodging against the knot that had risen in her throat. "What priest?" she asked faintly without looking at him, knowing very well which priest he was talking about and wondering how he knew about it.

'There was a priest standing in the road the night you had your accident. Do you remember him at all?" Kusanagi asked, watching her intently as he took another bite.

Momiji shifted in her seat, suddenly unable to sit still. She didn't want to tell him about Susano-oh. Not yet. "I – I seem to recall," she stuttered, and then changed it to, "h-how did you know that there was a priest?"

"So you do remember him," Kusanagi said, and when Momiji didn't reply, added. "There was another driver who witnessed the accident, Momiji. He saw the priest too. He said that the priest was the reason you crashed. You swerved to avoid him and skidded off the road. The other driver stopped to see what he could do to help, and by the time he called for help, the priest had vanished."

Momiji's eyes flickered apprehensively in Kusanagi's direction and then away again. He was watching her very intently and she was afraid her expression would give away too much if she looked at him, so she stared down at her plate, picking at its contents.

"You do remember him, don't you Momiji." Kusanagi repeated. It was more of a statement than a question, and Momiji debated how much she should tell him.

"Did the other driver ever see the priest's face?" she asked Kusanagi, still not looking at him.

"No," he replied slowly and Momiji felt a little relieved, knowing that she could tell him most of what happened without revealing the identity of the priest.

She looked up then, her green eyes becoming unfocused as she thought back to that night.

"It was dark and raining that night, and I don't really remember too much of the accident," she told him truthfully as disjointed images flashed through her mind. "I remember hearing something – it was loud, like thunder, but it wasn't thunder– and then I saw someone - the priest - standing in the road." Momiji tensed as she relived those moments in her mind. "He was standing too close, and I new I couldn't avoid him. So I – I slammed on my brakes and swerved.

"I remember seeing the headlights of an oncoming car and then running off the road." She stopped then, remembering the terrible pain she had felt and how she had felt like she had been suffocating.

She spoke again without realizing it, telling him about the pain, the blood and thinking to herself that she was going to die. She only realized she had spoken the words aloud when she heard a snap of splintering wood and she looked up to see Kusanagi holding the broken remnants of his chopstick between his clenched fingers. He put them on the table and motioned for her to continue her story.

Momiji looked away then and finished telling him what she remembered. "I remember the priest standing by the car then," she told him softly, her voice sounding far away. "He stretched out his hand and touched me, and then… I don't remember anymore," she finished, suddenly realizing that it must have been Susano-oh who had saved her; that she would have died if it hadn't been for him.

It was quiet for a moment, and Kusanagi's voice sounded taught when he spoke into the silence. "Do you remember what he looked like, Momiji? Did you ever see his face?"

Momiji's eyes came sharply back into focus at his question and she looked away. "No. I never saw his face," she lied.

She didn't think that he believed her so she asked her own question, hoping to avoid any further discussion of the priest. "Speaking of mysteries," she said, keeping her voice casually curious, "just where did you go this afternoon?"

"Huh?" Kusanagi asked suddenly straightening in his chair, taken aback by the turn in the conversation, "I, uh, I…"

"You were gone far too long just to be buying burn ointment, Kusanagi," she told him matter-of-factly as she finished her dinner and put her plate in the sink to be washed. She came back to get his and gave him a look of inquiry, letting him know that she was still waiting for an answer to her question.

He evaded it by grimacing and saying in a pained voice, "I feel like a just ate a wet bag of cement."

Momiji gasped in outrage and he turned to hide his smile, heading sluggishly towards the living room moaning as he went. He collapsed on the sofa, his whole body sprawled the full length, and chuckled dryly as he heard Momiji banging around the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Thank god for Momiji's lousy dinner; otherwise, he'd still be in there humming and hawing, trying to think of a reason why he'd been gone so long.

Momiji fumed silently as she slammed around the kitchen, wiping clean the table and washing the dishes. The ungrateful, wretch, she grumbled to herself. He said he was here to help, so why was she in here, by herself, cleaning up the dishes. She stopped scrubbing at the saucepan for a minute to scowl down at it and say under her breath, "After insulting my dinner, the least he could is offer to help," Never mind that it really _was_ terrible. She had put a lot of effort into it for that fat-headed, insensitive oaf. She went back to scrubbing the pan, working off a great deal of her anger in the process. By the time she was through, she was only slightly steamed at Kusanagi, and she entered the living room fully intent on extracting an apology from him.

She passed through the kitchen door and paused looking around. Where did he go, she wondered, not seeing him any where.

"Kusanagi?" she called and then heard his husky moan in response. She followed it to the sofa and found Kusanagi sprawled there, his arm flung over his eyes. Momiji stopped by his side, hand on her hip, her lips thinning in annoyance.

"Wet bag of cement, huh?" she said in a softly menacing way.

Kusanagi didn't budge, but she saw him grimace, his teeth flashing white against the bronze of his skin, "I don't think I've ever eaten anything quite that bad before. Of course there was that time that you – UUNNGH!" he huffed as he felt a heavy weight clobber him in the stomach.

Momiji sat down on top of him, straddling his torso with her legs, smiling in satisfaction at his grunt of discomfort. She watched as he dropped his arm from his face, his cat-like eyes flashing at her. "What the heck are you doing?"

She gave him her sweetest smile and said, "I think you owe me an apology."

Kusanagi's eyes widened in astonishement, "For what? Supplying the wet bag of cement now firmly lodged inside my stomach? I don't think so- ohhh," he replied defiantly, his hands going to her waist when she bounced up and down on him a little. He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans and held her stationary, saying smugly, "I think you're the one who should apologize to me."

"And just what would I have to be sorry for?" she demanded, trying to pry his fingers loose from her waist.

"Well for one thing, hitting me, first with your cast and then with that wooden club you call a spoon," he said.

"What!?! You earned both of those whacks with your crude remarks and wise cracks!" He tightened his fingers around her waist and she grunted, pulling harder than ever.

"-And then there's forcing me to eat a wet bag of cement – I read somewhere that ingesting concrete can be lethal," he informed her with a glint in his eye. "You'll be sorry that you made me eat it when they have to bury me."

Momiji gave up trying to pry his fingers loose, and instead grabbed the front of his shirt, crumpling the grey jersey beneath her fists. "Give me a break!" she scoffed, "you could eat a bucket of nails and call it gourmet!! Now say you're sorry!" she demanded, shaking him by pulling back and forth on the front of his shirt.

Kusanagi just laughed and Momiji shook even harder until she felt his fingers find the skin beneath her sweater and feather softly against her back and sides, his thumbs still hooked in the loops of her jeans. Momiji froze, her eyes widening, and looked down at him. His expression was feline, a lazy smile hovering on his lips.

"Jeez, Momiji," he murmured, "look at all the weight you've lost." His fingers still splayed around her sides and back, he jiggled his thumbs, moving them back and forth and her jeans slid loosely around her waist. "It's no wonder though," he told her, his smile broadening, "with the way you cook."

"Kusanagi!" she screeched.

Her voice ended in a yelp as she felt him yank on her jeans again, but stronger this time. Momiji had little time to react as he lifted her off of him and rolled her underneath him, careful not to hurt her, so that their positions were reversed. She found herself staring helplessly into his face and he gave her a devilish grin.

"Now apologize," he ordered, his voice teasing.

"No," she pouted up at him.

"You'll be sorry," he warned her, but she stubbornly shook her head.

"Apologize," he ordered again, and when she still refused, he suddenly doubled over in anguish, and collapsed against her, his face resting against the curve of her neck.

"Kusanagi? What is it?" she said, panic rising in her when he gave a guttural moan. "Kusanagi? Are you all right?" still he didn't answer, his body going slack against her as if he had slipped into unconsciousness. She was really scared now. What was wrong with him? "Kusanagi, answer me!" she demanded, her voice trembling in fear.

"Are you ready to apologize yet?"

She felt his voice rasp against her neck and a fury begin to rise inside her. He had really frightened her! "Kusanagi!" she yelled at him and raised her knee, putting her foot against his thigh and shoving as hard as she could. He was caught off balance and he went thudding to the floor, but taking her with him, his hands still wound around her waist. She landed on top of him, her forehead smashing hard into his nose and he let go of her, grabbing his nose at the sudden jolt of pain that went stabbing through it.

Suddenly free, Momiji scrambled off the top of him, her ribs hurting from the impact, still furious that he would scare her like that, and headed for the stairs, ignoring his repeated calls to her. She didn't even make it around the sofa before he caught her arm and swung her around. Her face was white with anger and fear and her green eyes stood out in vivid contrast. She avoided his gaze and so he put a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him.

"I'm sorry, Momiji," he said softly, seeing the pain and anger in her luminous eyes.

Seeing the concern in his eyes, Momiji took a chance and leaned towards him, praying that he wouldn't turn away. He didn't, but he didn't put his arms around her either, standing stiffly as she clutched his arms and rested her face against his chest. She closed her eyes, and felt her anger slipping away into sorrow, wishing that he would hold her and feeling sad because he remained unmoving, neither denying nor accepting her embrace.

Feeling suddenly exhausted and unable to bear his indifference any longer she let her hands fall away from him and turned, walking away from him, unwavering in her steps even when he called to her again. He moved in front of her and blocked her forward progress, not understanding her sudden change of moods.

"What's wrong, Momiji?"

"Why did you leave?"

She blurted out the words before she realized it and by the look on his face, she could tell that she had not only surprised herself, but had caught him by surprise as well. Deep inside, she already knew the answer to her question. Susano-oh had told her why. But she still wanted to hear it in Kusanagi's own words, so she asked again.

"Why did you leave Tokyo, Kusanagi? You didn't even say goodbye."

Momiji watched his expression become grim and shuttered. She didn't think he was going to answer but he finally said, "I left because I wanted you to be happy, Momiji. I wanted you to be able to lead a normal, happy life, and as long as I was around, I knew you couldn't."

Momiji's mouth fell open in astonishment, not quite sure that she heard him correctly. "You left to make me happy?" she echoed faintly and when he nodded, said in a stronger voice, "how could you possibly imagine that leaving me would make me happy, Kusanagi?"

He turned away and moved restlessly around the room, coming to a halt in front of the darkened window. "I can never give you what you need, Momiji. I can never be normal." His voice was heavy and he quit speaking. He put his hand to the cold glass of the window, tracing the droplets of rain running down it, his mouth twisting in bitterness as he looked at the deep blue of the mitama standing out vividly against his skin.

Momiji came up softly behind him, her voice sounding sweet and gentle when she began speaking in a hesitant sort of way.

"I have never really given it much thought, Kusanagi, the difference between you and I," she admitted, "because it never really mattered to me. You are very capable of giving me everything that I need," she told him, "but only if you want to."

He turned around then, his eyes hard with anger that was directed not at her, but at himself. "No I can't Momiji!" he said tightly, "I cannot give you everything you need – I am not even human!"

His soul longs for the humanity that Orochi's mitamas have erased…

The words echoed through her mind and Momiji wondered how she was to fight for him, when he was unwilling to fight himself.

She stepped forward and took his hand in hers. She turned it over and looked at the blue seed buried deeply there, her fingers tracing the hard ridges that had left a lasting scar upon his soul. She let her green eyes drift to his face, and she saw with her own eyes, the look that she had seen in the photograph of her and Kusanagi that night at her mother's house. Longing, sorrow, bitterness; it was all there, exposed to her for the first time.

"My needs," she murmured, stepping closer to him, raising his hand in her own until it cupped her cheek. "are very simple, Kusanagi." She closed her eyes and leaned her face against his hand, cherishing the warmth of his fingers. She opened her eyes again, focusing her green gaze back on his face, his eyes, locked on her as if mesmerized "I need someone to share my secrets with, who will listen to my dreams without laughing - someone I can take long walks with and sit in silence with. I need someone to hold me when I'm lonely and someone who wants to hold me when he feels alone. Do you still believe that you cannot give me what I need, when all I need is you?" she asked him. "Do you think that the blood that flows through your veins makes you less human because of its color? I know what you are Kusanagi, even if you refuse to see it yourself. You are simply a man – different, yes, but a man nonetheless."

She slowly dropped her hand away from his, fully expecting him to pull away from her, and felt her heart flutter against her ribs when, instead of moving further away, he closed the distance between them, his thumb stroking her jaw as his other hand came up and cupped the back of her head, tipping her face towards him.

Kusanagi could feel his self-control slipping. Standing so close to her, feeling the softness of her skin as he cradled her face, the warmth of her body calling to his, he felt himself falling into her deep green eyes. He struggled to free himself from the spell that her body was weaving around him, but found that her words were a stronger seduction than even her closeness, offering him the freedom he had denied himself, accepting him as he was when he struggled against it himself. Kusanagi stared down at her, his eyes flickering to her soft lips, and he knew that he was in trouble. One kiss, he thought, unable to fight against the desire he felt any longer. Just one, and then he would let her go.

Momiji gave Kusanagi a searching look and saw the emotional conflict in his eyes. He was still fighting, she could see it clearly, but she felt a surge of hope as he closed his eyes and lowered his head toward her.

Momiji's eyes drifted closed and she felt Kusanagi's breath feather across her cheek as his lips brushed against hers, lightly at first and then with increasing pressure. Momiji felt her breath catch in her chest as Kusanagi deepened the kiss, his mouth sliding hungrily across hers and she clung desperately to him, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her knees went weak but Kusanagi kept her firmly anchored in place. He pulled her tightly up against his body, his hands sliding beneath the softness of her sweater to touch her, setting fire to the skin of her back as his fingers slid upwards, his thumbs brushing against the curve of her breasts that were flattened against his chest.

Slowly, he gentled the kiss, ending it as his hands came around to cup her face once more. He leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged and he didn't move for a long moment. Momiji's eyes fluttered opened and she stood, looking wide-eyed and silent into his face, a feeling of hope filling her heart.

"Does this mean that you have changed your mind about yourself, Kusanagi?" she asked weakly, and smiled a little at his reply.

"I don't know what it means," he mumbled, finally letting her go and stepping awkwardly away.

It might not be a yes, but it definitely wasn't a no, Momiji thought, feeling light-headed with renewed purpose. Kusanagi mumbled something about making some coffee and beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen and Momiji watched him go, in a kind of daze. Her first kiss, she thought, sighing in pleasure, her face awash in color as she relived it. And what a kiss it had been!


	8. 7: A Call to Battle

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER SEVEN

Momiji didn't think that she would be able to sleep at all that night. Not after what had happened between her and Kusanagi. But much to her surprise, the minute her head hit the pillow, she was sound asleep, her body tiring easily as it struggled to heal itself. Her peaceful slumber did not last though, becoming plagued with troublesome dreams and visions.

Outside the rain began to steadily increase in intensity through the night, pattering against the roof and windows and so did the voices of her dreams, and Momiji writhed, trying to escape them, the cries of terror and pain twisting inside her. Beyond her window, there was only the rain, but within her mind, there was a roar like thunder and Momiji was jerked awake. She lay panting, her body bathed in perspiration, her eyes staring unseeing up at the ceiling.

"It's coming," she mumbled breathlessly, her eyes glazed in fear, she sat up, unaware of her surroundings. "Oh, god, it's coming," she said again, her voice full of terror and dread as she slid from her bed and crossed the darkened room.

Momiji moved automatically, her fear driving her forward as her mind closed in on itself, hearing only the cries of anguish and the roar that caused them. Momiji skittered down the stairs and opened the door. Stepping out into the cold rain in her bare feet, she moved forward, leaving the door open behind her, drawn by some unseen force.

"It's coming," she whispered frantically, unaware that she spoke.

Unfeeling of the rain that drenched her flannel nightgown and the cold ground beneath her feet, Momiji began to run. Her chestnut braid slapping wetly against her back, she veered from the street into the trees. Her breathing became sharp and painful and the stony ground cut into her feet, and yet she felt nothing. She was jerked to an abrupt halt by the sound of a scream rending the air, the same scream she had been hearing in her dream. It was followed by the fury of a roar and as it echoed around her, Momiji became frantic, her legs mechanically jolting forward toward the sound.

"Too late," she sobbed, as the screams ceased, leaving nothing but the roar. "No!! No!!! Akiko!!" she shrieked in denial. She stumbled, tripping over a stone and fell, sliding down a steep sloping embankment that came to an end near the back yard of a small house.

Panting hard, Momiji lay face down against the rain soaked ground, her gown ripped and torn, bleeding from the cut above her eyebrow that had reopened when she fell. She could hear it, the sound of its hollow breathing as it readied itself to feed upon its victim. In the background, Momiji could hear the sound of a small dog, Kebooru, barking just a few feet away from where her master lay. Momiji tried to push herself up, but her arms and legs were shaking, too weak to support her weight and she subsided against the ground, closing her eyes. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she felt it sense her presence, and she experienced the same feeling she had had that day at the iwatto.

Run! Her brain screamed at her, but Momiji's body was spent, unable to obey the command. Still gasping for air, she raised her head with effort, the blood from her cut stinging her eyes as it trickled downwards to mingle with the rain dripping down her face in rivulets. Squinting through the rain and darkness, she saw Akiko lying bloodied and motionless on the ground, and next to her, the hunched over body of a creature. Momij's mouth went dry with fear and her stomach twisted at the sight of it.

It wasn't human, but humanoid in form, with long arms and legs and an emaciated body. Its skin was a mottled yellowish brown like that of rotting leaves and it shimmered in the rain. It had a elongated, skeletal head with long horns curving sharply towards its back. Its skin was stretched taughtly across its face, which appeared gaunt and hollow, with nothing but slits for a nose and a wide, gaping mouth. It's sunken eyes were cat-like, red with black slits, and centered in its forehead was a black mitama. It bared its bloodied fangs at her and hissed, turning away from Akiko. It slowly stalked her, moving on all fours, until it was just a few feet away. Then it crouched low to the ground, readying its strike. Raising its arm, it flexed its long claws, threw back its head and with a roar leapt forward. Its cry reverberated around her like the crash of thunder.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji screamed, covering her head with her arms, as the claws came sweeping down, arching towards her face.

"How can this be? I don't understand," Kaede said, distressed.

Susano-oh tried to soothe her, but knew that the situation was grave. "Its powers grow," he observed solemnly, "I had not expected it to be able to summon the others so quickly."

My lord," Kaede's agitation became more marked and she grabbed her husband's arm, "what is she doing? Momiji!" she called, but her sister was beyond her hearing, driven by the strong need to protect. "Lord Susano-oh," Kaede begged, desperate, "you must stop her!"

Susano-oh closed his eyes and concentrated, seeking the flow of power from the blue souls. He dared not do more than this now that there was more than the one. He must leave it to Kusanagi to protect her this time.

"Call to him, Kaede," he whispered as his soul reached out and touched those he was seeking. "Help him to find her."

Kusanagi sat up, the sheet falling from his bare chest to his waist. His body was on fire, his mitamas glowing brightly in the darkened room. "Not again!" He groaned, doubling over, but straightening almost immediately as the pain subsided and the glow faded. "What the hell?" he muttered.

Throwing off the sheet he climbed out bed. He had been dreaming about Kaede. Why? He thrust his hand through his sleep - tousled hair, and rubbed at the tensed muscles at the back of his neck. Kusanagi hadn't thought about Kaede - hadn't dreamed about her in over three years. Yet when he had awoken, her image had been clearly etched in his mind. Why? The answer came swiftly and unexpectedly as if it had been whispered to him. Momiji.

Kusanagi turned then, and, dressed in nothing but his shorts, quietly left the room, heading straight for Momiji's room. He stopped in her doorway and swore softly. She wasn't there. Turning swiftly and re-crossing the hall, he headed for the top of the stairs, yelling her name. There was no answer. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down into the darkness below. All was quiet and unmoving, a cold draft drifting up from the room below and settling in his chest right around his heart. He called her name again, and again there was no answer. With swift steps his feet carried him down the steps where he stopped dead, looking at the open door.

"Oh, god, Momiji." He breathed, going to the door and looking out.

She was nowhere to be seen. As quickly as he could, he was back up the stairs in his room, throwing on his black jeans, not even sparing the time to put on a shirt. He climbed out the window and jumped to the soggy ground below. He called her name, his voice echoing through the silence. A panic began to rise inside him. He had to find her, and quickly. His fear was blocking his ability to sense her and he tried to control it, but couldn't, knowing the only reason she would have come out here was if something had drawn her here. He swore again, setting off toward the trees at the back of the house.

"No."

Kusanagi stopped and whirled around, expecting to see someone standing behind him. There was no one. He turned again, but was stopped yet again, this time, the voice more distinct, more familiar.

"No, Kusanagi."

Kusanagi jerked around, his eyes darting around him. "Kaede!" he yelled, knowing her voice. "Where is she, Kaede!"

Nothing but the sound of rain in the silence met his demand, and then, coming from the distance, as if to show him, he heard Kaede's voice answer, "This way." He shot forward, moving quickly, his feet barely touching the ground, following Kaede's voice into the street and then through the trees.

"She is not far now," the voice urged him on, "you must hurry, Kusanagi!" and then the voice was gone, another sound rising up in its place.

It was the sound of a woman's scream and the feral growl of an animal. Then he heard Momiji's voice, screaming his name and Kusanagi moved even faster, following the sound of her voice through the trees and down a steep slope.

Momiji's body trembled tensely and she closed her eyes, feeling the creature's lunge and not wanting to see it as it bore down on her. She whimpered and felt strong hands jerk her up by the waist, pulling her from the ground and then away from the path of the creature.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji's voice trembled as she looked up into his furious face.

"You stupid little fool!" He lashed out, setting her to her feet near the fallen body of a young woman, where she promptly slithered to the ground, her legs still too weak to support her. "What the hell are you doing out here?" He didn't wait for her answer but turned away to face the creature, its gaze centered hungrily upon him. Kusanagi stepped in front of Momiji, and flexed his hands, the blades in his arms becoming unsheathed.

Kusanagi stared at the creature with the black mitama, watching it rise from all fours to stand on its legs. It extended its arms, flexed them in much the same manner that Kusanagi had, its skin stretching outward, a ridge of hard, serrated spikes appearing from its wrist to its elbows. Its red and black eyes stared at Kusanagi and it made a gurgling noise as if it was laughing at him.

"What the hell kind of Aragami are you?" He said in disgust and bolted towards it his blades extended, ready to strike.

It was quicker than he had anticipated and it evaded his blow easily, jumping to the side as Kusanagi skidded to a halt and turned to face it again. Its mouth twisted, and it bared its teeth, showing two rows of sharp fangs, one set inside of the other. Bloodied saliva dripped in long strings from its mouth and it made that gurgling laughing sound again, its breath rasping loudly in its throat.

Then it spoke, surprising him, its voice a multiple layer of sounds. "Come and kill me if you can, little man," it taunted, crouching low to the ground.

Kusanagi sneered, his face twisting in hatred, "It will be my pleasure!"

He leapt forward again, his arm slashing sharply downward towards the creature's body, but all his blade met with was air as the creature again evaded his attack, quickly sliding by him towards where Momiji lay. Kusanagi cursed. He had made a grievous error in allowing it to get past him and now Momiji lay exposed, vulnerable with nothing between her and the creature.

Instead of lunging after Momiji, however, the creature turned its back to her and gazed with red eyes at Kusanagi.

"You are not all you appear to be, little man," it laughed softly, "you are not completely human." It took a step towards Kusanagi, its eyes bright with hunger. "I smell the power of our evolution flowing though your veins. Come! I shall claim that power for myself!" it snarled, leaping forward, its claws slicing through the muscle of his shoulder before he could dodge it.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji screamed, seeing the green blood running freely down Kusanagi's arm and chest.

"Like hell, you will!" Kusanagi sneered, turning even as the claws ripped across him and struck a blow that the creature could not avoid, slicing cleanly through its arm.

The creature reared back, its horns almost touching its back as it howled in pain, dark blood pouring from its severed arm. Holding its truncated arm against its body, it leaped away from Kusanagi as he tried to strike a lethal blow, landing near the steep sloping bank. Kusanagi started after it, but it retreated out of his reach, crouching down and quickly burrowing into the soft, muddy soil. Kusanagi held his hand against his lacerated and throbbing shoulder, and watched it disappear, the earth closing up after it. He walked to the soft mound of earth and touched it with his bare toe, a frown of frustration on his face. He couldn't go after it.

Instead he turned, his face dark with fury, and stalked over to Momiji, who sat cradling the head of the fallen girl in her lap, a little wet rat-of-a-dog sitting next to her whimpering. Momiji was crying in anguish, rocking back and forth and Kusanagi felt his anger drain away. Kusanagi crouched down next to her, and looked at the girl. He had never seen her before, but knew that Momiji knew her, for she kept calling her name.

"Akiko," Momiji cried over and over, and then looked up at Kusanagi, her eyes spilling over with tears of pain. "I tried to get here in time," she sobbed, "but I couldn't! I couldn't stop it!"

Kusanagi looked closely at the girl. The Aragami had mangled her badly, her arm bearing a grisly wound where it had been ripped open by the Aragami's teeth and deep gashes running across her stomach from the creature's long claws. Blood oozed from the deep wounds across her stomach and seeped down covering Momiji's lap. The girl was still alive, but barely. Kusanagi gently picked her limp body up and looked down at Momiji.

"I need to go for help. Can you stand on your own?" Momiji nodded and clambered shakily to her feet while Kusanagi issued her some orders, "Go into her house, and lock the doors. Stay there until I get back." Momiji nodded her understanding, and jumped a little when he said sharply, "I mean it, Momiji. You'd better be locked in here when I get back," he snarled, afraid that she might take some hare-brained notion and go wandering off again.

Momiji nodded again, picked up the little dog and scrambled towards the door. Kusanagi waited until the door was closed and he heard the bolt slide into place before he took off. Momiji put Kebooru to the floor and watched Kusanagi leave, praying that he would be able to save Akiko. Momiji began to shake all over, finally feeling the wet and the cold. She looked down at her flannel teddy bear nightgown and fingered the grimy material. It was drenched from the rain, covered in Akiko's blood and mud from her fall down the embankment, and shredded in several places up to her knees. Momiji dropped the material from her fingers and it slapped wetly against her thigh.

She really should call Mr. Kunikida, she thought to herself and on numb feet, she stumbled over to the phone and dialed her mother's number, hoping that he was there. He was and their conversation was brief and to the point. Shortly after she hung up she heard a car pull up outside the house. It was Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko. She opened the door for them.

Kunikida took one look at her at said, "My god, Momiji, are you all right?" he asked, taking his coat off and draping it over her shoulders.

Momiji mumbled that she was fine and went on to tell him what happened as they made their way to the kitchen and out the back door where the attack had taken place. As she spoke, Mr. Kunikida walked around the yard, noting the soft pile of earth near the embankment and stooping to look at the severed limb of the Aragami.

"So Kusanagi was right," Mr. Kunikida noted, again looking at the soft pile of earth, "this thing can travel underground."

Momiji shot a startled look at Mr. Kunikida. "You mean Kusanagi knew about this? How?"

Mr. Kunikida stood up, and said reluctantly, "I told him. He met me yesterday afternoon at another attack site in Wakasa. I needed his opinion as to what it could be."

"He didn't tell me," Momiji said faintly and then, in a more accusing manner, "you didn't tell me."

Mr. Kunikida came towards her, regret written on his face, not because he had failed to tell her, but because she had found out anyway. "I'm sorry, Momiji. Kusanagi and I thought it would be best to keep it from you until you were stronger. "

Momiji didn't say anything, feeling too upset. They should have told her, she thought, feeling left out and betrayed. Mr. Kunikida took her arm and walked her back towards the kitchen where Ryoko was making some phone calls.

"Come on," he said, "let me take you home."

Momiji didn't resist, stopping only long enough to pick up Kebooru and then followed Mr. Kunikida out to the car. They didn't speak on the short drive to her house. He would have lingered had Momiji let him, to make sure that she was okay, but Momiji knew how important it was for him to get back to Akiko's and so she gave him back his coat and made him leave, assuring him in a firm voice that she would be fine on her own.

Still he hesitated so she said, "As soon as you leave, I'm going to go upstairs and go back to bed. I feel pretty washed out."

That got him moving, and he left after she promised to call him in the morning to let him know that she was okay. She closed the door on his back, put Kebooru to the floor and, instead of heading upstairs like she had told him, she went into the kitchen to wait for Kusanagi to return. Shuffling over to the kitchen table, she collapsed in a chair, strong shivers suddenly wracking her body. She clenched her teeth tightly together and huddled in the chair trying to generate some warmth.

Hearing a whine, Momiji looked down and saw Kebooru sitting forelornly at her feet, her little flat face turned upwards towards Momiji. She looked like a wet mop of muddy hair, and she shivered much in the same way that Momiji did. Momiji bent down and picked her up, her little body generating a patch of warmth next to Momiji's skin.

"I need to go and change my clothes," Momiji mumbled through her chattering teeth, but she stayed where she was, feeling too tired to move. Still shivering, she dropped her head to the table and closed her eyes. She felt so sleepy. Perhaps if she rested for just a minute, she could muster up enough energy to go upstairs and put on some dry clothes.

Momiji had no idea how long she had been sitting there slumped over the table, but the next thing she knew she had been removed from her chair and was being violently shaken.

"Stop, stop!" she tried to say but all that came out was a groan.

"Momiji? Can you hear me?" It was Kusanagi's voice and it sounded panicked. He shook her again, and she opened her green eyes and slowly focused on his alarmed face..

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tense but still a little sluggish, "Is – is Akiko going to be okay?"

"Dammit, Momiji!" he growled at her, yanking her hard against his bare chest, "I didn't think you were going to wake up."

"I-I'm okay," she stuttered, and he thrust her away, still holding on to her to keep her from sliding to the floor since her legs didn't want to seem to work properly.

"Like hell, you are!" he countered harshly, his eyes sliding from the cut on her forehead, to her white complexion and down to her tattered nightgown. He picked her up and carried her from the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom, dumping her in the chair next to the window.

"Is Akiko going to be all right?" Momiji asked again.

Kusanagi didn't answer her; instead, he glared down at her and pointed his finger at her. "Stay there." And he turned and left the room, going towards the bathroom.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji called his name several times in frustration, wanting to know about Akiko. "Answer me!" she almost shouted, her head starting to spin from the effort.

Still there was no answer, but Kusanagi appeared a few seconds later carrying a thick fluffy towel.

"Is she going to be okay?" Momiji asked for the third time.

But Kusanagi still didn't answer. Instead he went over to her chest of drawers and began yanking open the drawers finding, first a pair of underwear covered in pink teddy bears and then in the second drawer a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. He slammed the drawers and stalked back over to her. Holding up the panties he couldn't resist saying, "so your nightgown did come with matching panties," and was rewarded by watching the pink flood back into Momiji's face. "Take your underwear off," he ordered watching the color intensify in her face.

"I will not!" Momiji said in her feistiest tone and Kusanagi just rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to catch pneumonia?" he asked her impatiently, "take them off. Now, Momiji!" and threw the panties into her lap. He turned his back to her and heard her rustling movements as she struggled to do as he told her. She was shaking and panting for breath by the time she was through.

He turned back around when he heard her subside back in the chair and said, "Don't sit back down," reaching down and pulling her to her feet, "your gown will just get your underwear wet again." He handed her the towel, sweatshirt and the sweatpants, and turned back around waiting for her to use them. Momiji managed to run the towel down her wobbly legs. She stood back up and looked down at the thick sweatpants clutched in her fist . She didn't think she would be able to get them on without falling over, her knees were shaking so badly. But what else was she supposed to do?

"Is there a problem?" Kusanagi asked when she didn't move, his back still to her. "Do you need some help?"

"No!" Momiji replied quickly and lifted her right leg to slide them on.

Just as she had feared, she went crashing to the floor, her right leg to weak to bear the entire weight of her body alone. Kusanagi heard her hit the ground and swiveled back around, looking down at her. She had landed on her hip and she quickly sat up, still clutching the pants in her hand and feeling extremely foolish.

"That's going to leave a bruise," she grimaced, rubbing her hip.

Kusinagi crouched down next to her, took the pants from her fingers, and started pushing her gown up to expose her legs. Momiji resisted him, shoving uselessly at his hands as he shifted her gown up past her knees and stopped.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded furiously.

"I'm helping," he stated as if it was obvious, and then, just to irritate her, "it's not like I haven't seen your bony legs before, Momiji. When you wear shorts, you expose more of them than I've exposed just by pushing up your gown."

"Bony!?" Momiji breathed, outraged, "my legs are NOT bony, you jerk! – The only bony thing is this room is YOUR HEAD!!"

While she was yelling at him, he used the distraction to slide the pants onto the bottom part of her legs and yank them up to her knees. Then leaning back, he asked dryly, "When you're through shouting at me, princess, do you think you could manage the rest on your own?"

Momiji's mouth compressed into a thin line, her eyes shooting daggers at him. Taking that as a yes, he stood back up and turned his back to her. A wicked grin curled his lips when he heard her mutter between grunts as she struggled to get the pants all the way up, still incensed, "my legs – _ugh_ - are _not – ugh –_ bony!"

While his back was still turned, Momiji slid the gown over her head and dropped it to the floor where it landed with a wet _thwap_! She quickly dried her chest and back and slid the warm sweatshirt over her head, then climbed back into the chair and let him know she was done.

He turned back around then, and examined her critically. Becoming uncomfortable under his gaze, Momiji looked away from him and, still worried about her friend, asked him about Akiko one more time. Kusanagi didn't say anything as he reached down and picked the towel up off the floor. He came over to her and knelt by the chair, turning her face in his direction with his hand so that he could blot at the cut above her eye.

She didn't think he was going to answer her, but he eventually said, "I don't know Momiji. I couldn't exactly stick around to find out – not with my shoulder the way it is."

There was bitterness in his voice and Momiji understood then. Green blood. Of course he couldn't stay. He would have become an object of speculation; people wondering who he was or worse yet, what he was. That was something that he would avoid at all costs.

Momiji let her eyes drift over him as he worked, noting how wet he still was and how the deep grooves in his shoulder were still oozing blood, much more so than the minor cut over her own eye. He should be attending his own wound and not hers, she thought and she tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.

"Be still," he ordered, his fingers tightening on her chin.

"But you're still bleeding," she said, managing to twist her chin free, "let me find something to bind the wound with," she murmured and made to stand, but found herself pushed unceremoniously back down on the chair.

"I'll be fine," he told her flatly, glaring starkly down at her, "unlike you. You look like hell." Momji made a sour face at his words but he ignored it and continued his sudden tirade. "You almost got yourself killed tonight. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Momiji opened her mouth to defend herself, but couldn't think of anything to say.

What had she been doing? It was a good question, and she didn't have a very clear answer herself. "I had to try and stop it," she mumbled by way of explanation, her statement inflaming Kusanagi's temper even more.

"I can't believe you would do something so _stupid_ as to leave the house in the middle of the night dressed in nothing but your _nightgown_, chasing after something that can easily slice you to ribbons. - _Are you completely nuts?_" he shouted at her, his brows drawn together in a heavy frown.

"Well, look at you!" Momiji shrieked back, bouncing up off the chair only to be pushed right back down again, "At least my body was completely covered! You're not even wearing a shirt! And I don't see any shoes on your feet either!"

"I'm dressed this way, because I came looking for you, you stupid, little fool," he spoke through clenched teeth, "I didn't exactly have time to dress at leisure when I found you'd gone missing. Hell, Momiji, don't you realize that if I _had_ stopped to dress in my shirt and shoes, that I might not have gotten here in time to stop that thing?"

She managed to make it to her feet and remained standing this time as she met Kusanagi's glare with one of her own. "Well maybe if I you and Mr. Kunikida hadn't tried to hide its existence from me, I wouldn't have gone after it in the first place!"

"Are you saying that this is my fault!?" he demanded furiously, leaning forward, his face inches from hers and his eyes blazing with anger.

"No, that's not what I'm saying, but if you had told me about what you knew, maybe I wouldn't have felt compelled to do what I did."

He pointed his finger at her and snarled, "You are saying this is my fault!"

"NO I'm NOT!" she shrieked, balling her hand into a fist and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to gain some self-control. "I'm not a little girl any more, Kusanagi, despite what you and Mr. Kunikida think! I don't have to be coddled and protected like some kind of infant!"

Her words further enraged him and he whipped his head back, stalked away from her, and literally tore at his hair with both of his hands. "Well if you don't want to be treated like a baby, then quit acting like one! Do you think tearing out of the house in the middle of the night is the responsible act of an adult!?" I swear, Momiji, your impulsive actions are enough to kill a man!"

His words took all of the wind out of her sails and her shoulders slumped forward. "You're right," she said quietly and she felt the tears start to pool in the corners of her eyes, "I can't expect you to think of me as an adult when all I do is cause you trouble. I didn't even know what I was doing at first. All I knew was that something terrible was going to happen to Akiko if I didn't try and help her."

Kusanagi watched in dismay as Momiji's anger crumbled into tears. He hated it when she cried. It always made him feel like such a heel. "Momiji, I –" he began uncomfortably, but she just sniffled and turned away from him to hide the hot tears that had begun to slide down her face.

Momiji felt him put a hand to her shoulder and turn her towards him, pulling her into his embrace. She put her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the strong, steady sound of his heartbeat as he dropped his face against the top of her head and let his hand caress the back of her head.

"Akiko is still alive because of you, Momiji," he said against the top of her head, "and you're right. I should have told you about the Aragami. But that doesn't change the fact that you should have never left the house on your own." He let her go then and stared earnestly down into her face. "And now that we know that the Aragami have reawakened, I want you to promise me that you won't do anything so impetuous again."

Momiji gave her promise and sat down on her bed saying, "but, somehow, I don't think its Aragami."

"I've never seen Aragami like that before," he admitted, "it had a black mitama, and its blood is different than mine," he commented remembering the darkness that splattered across the ground when he had severed its arm.

Kusanagi ran his hand through his hair and sat down on Momiji's bed next to her. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and staring at nothing in particular, muttered, "It was completely different from the ones we've fought in the past, but it has to be Aragami. What else could it be?"

"I – I don't know," Momiji stammered, "but I've felt its presence before."

"What?" Kusanagi asked turning sideways to look at her, "when?"

"On the day of my wreck," she admitted thinking back to that day. "I had gone to the iwatto to take some samples and when I came out, I felt it watching me," she shivered a little as she remembered it, and then said slowly, as she remembered its presence that rainy night for the first time since her wreck, "I felt it again, in the car, right before I saw the priest standing in the road. There was a great flash of light and I saw something moving across the road and into the trees. It was big, but I never got a clear look at it. After it ran away, the priest appeared."

As she spoke the images of that night flickered through her mind, seeing again the blue lightning, the fleeing mass and Susano-oh standing in the road. He must have been protecting her from it, Momiji mused. Knowing that it had been after her, he must have frightened it away. Did that mean that it was Aragami or was it something else?

"I know it has a mitama," Momiji continued in a thoughtful manner "but it doesn't feel the same as the Aragami to me. Could you feel it in your mitamas?" she asked looking up at Kusanagi.

Kusanagi considered her question and then slowly shook his head. He looked down at his hands, remembering how the mitamas had woken him up from his sleep and how he had found Momiji missing. Had they been glowing then, in response to this new creature, this new kind of Aragami? Or was it something else that had caused them to glow, he wondered, remembering his dream of Kaede and the voice that had seemed to lead him directly to Momiji.

His mitamas had definitely woken him up, but they hadn't responded at all when he had confronted the creature. Was it Aragami? He had seen it with his own eyes, seen its mitama and yet standing in front of it, he had not felt the energy from its mitamas the way he should have. What did it mean?

"Kusanagi," Momiji said hesitantly breaking into his thoughts and he looked down at her. She fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, twisting her fingers in the hem of her sweatshirt, "I wanted to tell you – I wasn't sure if – there's something that –" she babbled and he cut across her words.

"What is it, Momiji?"

She clenched her teeth and grimaced, knowing that now was the time to tell him, but she was still afraid to tell him; afraid of how he'd react. " Do you remember when you asked me about the priest?" he nodded and she continued, "well, I kinda…sorta…it was Susano-oh," she finally managed, and cringed, waiting for his reaction.

He got up off the bed, and went over to the window. "I wonder what it means," he murmured.

Momiji's eyebrows shot up and she asked in a squeaky voice, "You mean you're not angry? Gee, you're taking this so well," she said with a relieved smile, "after all, the last time you saw Susano-oh, you were trying to kill him."

Kusanagi just grunted and didn't say anything. Actually he probably wouldn't be taking it so well if it hadn't been for Kaede. If it hadn't been for Kaede, he would never have found Momiji in time. And that meant that Susano-oh wasn't their enemy this time. Did that mean that the Aragami also weren't the enemy this time. And if they weren't the enemy, then who was?

Kusanagi turned away from the window and looked back to where Momiji sat drooping tiredly on the bed. "Get some rest, " he told her and started walking towards the door, "or you're going to get sick."

"But, Kusanagi," she protested watching his retreating back go through her bedroom door.

"We can talk about it in the morning, but not if you're sick, " he threw over his shoulder, "now go to bed."

"All right," she said, and then, "good night Kusanagi," but he was already gone.


	9. 8: Achilles' Heel

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER EIGHT

Momiji rolled over, snuggling into her pillow, and felt something cold and wet snuffling against her ear. She slowly opened her eyes, focusing on the little black and white hairy body sitting close to her face. Kebooru, Momiji thought, and then giggled as she felt a soft tongue lap against her ear. Momiji sat up then, and pulled the shih-tzu puppy onto her lap. From the light streaming into her room, she surmised that it was well into morning, and a quick glance at her alarm clock confirmed it, the hands almost sitting on ten o'clock. Momiji jumped out of bed, feeling guilty for having slept so long.

"I bet you need to go outside, don't you, girl," she said, rubbing Kebooru's little, fluffy head and then setting her gently to the floor so she could take a shower and get dressed.

After her shower, Momiji padded back into her room where she thrust her legs into a pair of jeans and put on the same white sweater she had been wearing yesterday. Then with a feeling of dread, she picked up her brush. Surprisingly, it was a lot easier to manage since it wasn't as tangled as it had been when she had first gotten home from the hospital. Even so, she just barely managed to get the brush through it and left it hanging loose down her back, thinking how glad she would be to get her cast off.

She made a quick call to her Mom's house, to talk to Mr. Kunikida, and her mother, after expressing her concern for what had happened last night, told her that he wasn't in. Momiji hadn't really expected him to be, so she just left a message with her mother for him. She talked with her mother for a few more minutes and told her that she was going to go over to the hospital that afternoon and see Akiko. Her mother offered to drive her and Momiji accepted since she had yet to replace her car.

Then Momiji took Kebooru, who had curled up into a little ball in the middle of her bed, downstairs. It was completely quiet downstairs and on her way through the kitchen to take the little puppy out back, Momiji noted that Kusanagi was apparently still in bed. She stepped out into the bright sunshine and took a cleansing breath, drawing the fresh air deep into her lungs. It was cold and windy, but at least the wind had blown away the clouds, leaving nothing but pale blue sky. Momiji hugged her arms to her body and shivered as she watched the little puppy cavort around the yard. After a few more minutes, Momiji called her to take her back inside, but the puppy ignored her, her little flat nose twitching as she sniffed the air.

Momiji gave up trying to get her to come and stepped off the deck, going after her, darting in fits and starts across the yard as Kebooru, thinking it was a game, lead her on a merry chase. She would stop long enough for Momiji to get close to her, her curly tail wagging madly, and the minute Momiji slowed her own pace to pick her up, Kebooru would be off, bounding away like a bouncing ball.

This lasted for some minutes, until, finally out of breath, her cheeks flushed from the effort, Momiji managed to pluck her up from the ground, receiving a lick against her cheek as thanks for such a fun game. Momiji laughed and carried her back inside. After rummaging around in the refrigerator for something to feed to the little dog, who sat on her haunches watching Momiji curiously, Momiji made a mental note to go by Akiko's house and get the puppy some food later today.

"There you go. Breakfast is served," she told the puppy as she put some leftover chicken in a dish and set it to the floor, jumping a foot when she heard Kusanagi's voice.

"Geez, Momiji," he said, a note of complaint in his voice, and she straightened to see him leaning his shoulder against the door, watching her, "How come she gets to eat better than me? All I got last night was that wet bag of cement."

Despite last night's adventure in the rain, she looked no worse for wear, he thought as his gaze flickered over her, taking in the pink of her cheeks, the sparkle of her eyes and her totally innocent air. She really had no idea how alluring she was, her chestnut hair aflame in the morning sun's light and her peaches and cream complexion that looked almost good enough to eat. He wondered if she would taste as sweet as she looked if he allowed his lips to linger there against her cheek, his body tightening as he felt the urge to find the softness of her lips and feel the warmth of her skin as he had when he had kissed her last night. He took a steadying breath and shoved the thoughts away almost immediately. He needed to forget about last night. It had been a mistake to allow himself to be held in thrall by Momiji's soft touch, and an even worse mistake to listen to her sweet words of comfort that had sorely tempted his resolve to maintain his obligation to stay away from her. He knew that if he didn't pull back now and try to maintain his distance, he wouldn't be strong enough to fight his desire to take what she so innocently offered to him.

"Stop with the cement jokes already," she responded tartly, and frowned in concern when he pushed away from the wall and came towards her. Kusanagi's face looked brighter than usual, almost flushed and his eyes were extremely heavy-lidded. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked anxiously, "you don't look so good. Is your shoulder bothering you from last night? Maybe I should take a look at it."

"No, my shoulder doesn't need to be looked at, and yes, I'm fine," he told her, moving to the stove and picking up the kettle to put some water in it.

Actually, he felt far from fine, but he wasn't about to tell that to Momiji. It felt like someone had hit him in the face with a sledgehammer and his head was going to explode. There was a burning sensation behind his nose and eyes, and it felt like someone had shoved their fist down his throat. He'd never felt like this before. He had been beaten, battered and bruised more times than he cared to remember. He'd even been cut in half before - not that he remembered that too clearly - but not once had he ever felt quite like this. He had often wondered what it would be like to be sick. It was a novel sensation; one that he now realized he could have lived his whole life without and never missed, and one he wished would go away.

Momiji watched him for a minute or two and then shook her head. "I don't think you are fine, Kusanagi," she murmured and walked over to him, reaching up and putting her hand to his forehead while he stood in front of the sink filling the kettle with water. He jerked away from her, but not before she could tell that he had a fever. "You're sick," she told him.

He snorted and said dismissively, "I never get sick," and then sneezed.

Momiji watch him turn the water off and go back over to the stove, trailing after him in concern. He did his best to ignore her, and busied himself with turning the stove on and getting out a mug, and then, tired of being analyzed, snapped at her, "Will you quit looking at me like that!?"

"Like what?" she asked in confusion.

"Like I have flowers growing out of the top of my head!" he retorted and stalked over to the kitchen table, slumping into a chair to wait for the water to boil.

Momiji watch him sitting there in the chair like a petulant schoolboy and she turned and left the room. Kusanagi listlessly watched her go, thinking to himself that she had given up awfully easily, but glad to be left in peace, his head pounding. He inwardly groaned as Momiji returned a few minutes later with a thermometer and a bottle of aspirin. Oh, god, he thought with dread, she was in one of her here- let – me – help – you – moods. Kusanagi's eyes shifted from the thermometer, to her and back to the thermometer again.

"And just what were you planning on doing with that, Princess?" he asked in a surly tone, knowing very well what she planned on doing.

"Well, I thought I would use it to check the water temperature just to make sure your tea doesn't get too hot," she bubbled with false brightness and then said more sharply, "I'm going to take your temperature, you fat-head, what else?"

Kusanagi hastily pushed his chair back and clambered to his feet, backing away from her, "Leave me alone, Momiji. I'm fine." He said in a pained voice.

Kusanagi held his black gloved hand out in front of himself as if to ward her off, which was utterly ridiculous, thought Momiji, considering that she only came up to his breastbone. Nevertheless, she proceeded to advance in his direction and he proceeded to retreat until his back was against the wall, literally. He held his hand up higher then, and turned his head away, saying, "I mean it, Momiji, leave me be," the pained note gone, replaced by one of warning.

"Why are you being such a baby?" she asked him, "all I want to do is take your temperature, Kusanagi," she wheedled, but he remained tight-lipped and unmoving. "Come on, you're a big boy, you can handle this," she stepped closer to him and held the thermometer up to his mouth but he crossed his arms and glared down at her. She let her arm drop to her side, frustrated and then her face brightened as she got an idea. She edged even closer to him , and he scowled suspiciously at her. Giving him a bright smile, she raised her foot and stomped on his toe, grinding her bare heel against it as hard as she could.

"Owwch!" he cried, trying to remove his foot out from underneath hers and glaring at her, "what did you do that for?" he demanded and promptly found the thermometer shoved between his open lips.

He reached up to take it out of his mouth and received a stinging slap as she swatted his hand away, saying, "Honestly, Kusanagi, act your age!"

He didn't say anything but subsided with bad grace, leaning sullenly against the wall his eyebrows drawn into a straight line. Momiji waited patiently for the thermometer to beep and when it did, took it from him, looked at it and gasped.

"This can't be right, can it? 105.7?" she said, staring down at the numbers. If a normal human being was running a fever that high, they would be close to convulsions, wouldn't they? Looking up at him through her lashes, Momiji shot a speculative look at Kusanagi who was still pouting and didn't look anywhere close to having convulsions - a conniption, maybe, but convulsions? No. "What does your temperature normally run, Kusanagi?

Kusanagi pushed away from the wall, shrugged his shoulders indifferently and went over to the stove where the kettle had begun to whistle shrilly. "I don't know. I've never had occasion to take it before."

Momiji watched him pour his tea and then get out another mug for her and fill it as well. He put it in her hand as he passed her to sit down at the table and Momiji bit her lip in worry. He really didn't look good. She walked over to the table and set her mug down and then put the bottle of aspirin she'd been carrying next to his cup. Since she wouldn't be able to open it, she was going to have to try to get him to do it.

"Will you take a couple of these?" she asked with an entreating look, "please?"

Kusanagi took a sip of his tea, his cat-like eyes studying her over the rim of his mug. He quirked his lips impatiently and said, "If it will make you leave me alone, then yes, I will take some." He reached out and snatched up the bottle. Then shooting her one more, dark look, he opened it, shook a couple of pills into his hand and swallowed them with a gulp of tea. "There," he said abruptly banging his mug on the table, "now quit worrying."

Momiji gave him a relieved smile, sat down next to him, and sipped her own tea.

"I was thinking of going over to the hospital today to check on Akiko, do you want to come with me?" she asked.

Kusanagi really didn't feel like it so he shook his head and made an excuse. "I think I'll just stay here and work on my portfolio. I still haven't got it the way I want it."

There was a brief knock on the front door and then Momiji heard her mother's voice calling her.

"In here, Mom," she called and smiled when her mother came into the kitchen.

Moe hugged her daughter and then gave her a searching look, making certain for herself that she had come to no lasting harm after what had happened last night. Satisfied by what she saw she turned to greet Kusanagi and was shocked by what she saw.

"Kusanagi, you look terrible!"

"So I've been told," he replied unconcernedly and took another sip of his tea.

"Maybe we should call a doctor – " Moe began and visibly jumped when Kusanagi sharply cut across her words.

"No!" He stopped and modified his tone, "I'll be all right, Mrs. Fujimiya, with a little rest," he got to his feet, wishing to escape the two interfering females, and said, "if you'll excuse me, I have some things I need to work on," his gaze rested briefly on Momiji before he left and he said, "I'll see you when you get back, Momiji." And then he was gone, leaving Moe to give her daughter a puzzled look regarding his behavior.

"He doesn't like being put under a microscope," Momiji said helplessly, and her mother nodded in understanding.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Momiji couldn't help looking back over her shoulder at the house, still worrying about Kusanagi.

"You two seem to be getting along pretty well, considering what you told me the night of your wreck," her mother commented, "has anything happened that maybe I should know about?" she asked, coming to the point in a blunt, mother-like fashion.

"Ummm, no, not really." Momiji's face flamed red as she remembered Kusanagi's kiss, and she squirmed in her car seat.

Moe watched her speculatively but didn't push her daughter. When Momiji was ready to talk about it, she would let her mother know.

Moe couldn't refrain from saying though, "See, Momiji, I told you things would work out, didn't I?"

To which Momiji just mumbled her agreement and changed the subject. Akiko was fitfully drifting in and out of sleep when they arrived at her room. Her arm and shoulder were heavily wrapped in bandages and she looked pale, but when she woke and saw Momiji, she smiled brightly, glad to see her friend. Momiji told her what had happened since no one else had been there to witness it.

"The doctors just assumed that I had been attacked by some wild dogs or something,. Although, they did say I was brought in by some unusual - looking guy half-dressed with green stuff oozing down his shoulder. I thought that might be your Kusanagi?" Akiko raised her eyebrows over her spectacles and looked at Momiji who nodded in confirmation. "I was hoping that he would come with you so I could thank him for what he did," Akiko continued in disappointment.

"Well, he wasn't feeling well, but I promise, you'll get to meet him," Momiji replied and then asked, "Akiko do you remember anything about last night? Anything at all about the thing that attacked you?" Momiji asked.

"Not really," Akiko replied after a minute, "I remember I went to take Kebooru outside and I heard a noise behind me and there was this – thing – and it came after me." The fear stood out in Akiko's eyes just remembering it and Momiji was sorry that she had asked, but she had been hoping that she could learn something more about it by talking with Akiko.

"Never mind, Akiko," Momiji said hastily, wanting to see the terror fade from her friend's eyes. "It's not important."

They didn't stay much longer after that, because Akiko needed her rest. They stopped by Akiko's house to pick up some food for Kebooru and found it swarming with Defense Force personnel and some members of the TAC. Kome was there, now officially dressed in TAC regalia and when she saw Momiji, she broke away from the group of people she was with and approached her.

"Hey, kiddo. Are you okay?" she asked giving Momiji the once over. Satisfied with what she saw, she said, "I'm really sorry about what happened to your friend, but she's really lucky that you and Plant Boy came along when you did.

"I just wish I could have gotten to her sooner," Momiji sighed remorsefully.

"Don't feel bad, kiddo," Kome put an encouraging arm around Momiji, "you saved her life, that's what's important. Did you know that she is the first person to be attacked by one of these things and lived?"

Momiji looked surprised by this bit of information but she didn't say anything.

"You saw it didn't you – Ryoko said you did," Kome said, dropping her arm from Momiji's shoulder. Her blue eyes were grave as she gazed steadily at Momiji who nodded her head. "They say it had a mitama. Is that true?" she asked tensely and then swore loudly when Momiji confirmed it. "I was hoping we would never have to deal with those creepy things again." She slumped her shoulders and shoved her hands into her pockets, staring moodily off into the distance.

Momiji could have told Kome that she didn't think that they were dealing with the same kind of Aragami as before, but she didn't. Instead, she murmured, "Me too." And a silence fell between them.

Kome eventually recovered her aplomb and she looked at Momiji and said, "Kunikida was looking for you earlier. Did you see him?"

Momiji shook her head and looked around for his familiar, dominant figure but didn't see him anywhere. Momiji wished Kome goodbye and went to find Kebooru's food so she could leave. It was in the kitchen and Momiji stopped to look out back to see if Mr. Kunikida might be there. He wasn't there either, so she and her mother left.

Mr. Kunikida was waiting in the driveway for them when they got back home, smoking a cigarette and standing by her little grey car.

He put out his cigarette and waved as they drew up. "I needed to come by and talk to you and Kusanagi, so I thought I would bring your car along," he told her after opening the door for her.

Momiji looked at the front of the hood in amazement. It looked like new. "I didn't think they would be able to fix it," she murmured.

"Well, they didn't," Kunikida laughing at her artless observation, "this is a new one."

"What!? B-but you shouldn't have gone to all the trouble –" Momiji stammered.

"It's no trouble, Momiji," Mr. Kunikida waved his hand dismissively, "your insurance covered most of the cost, since the other one was practically new and I covered the rest," and when she tried to object again, added, "Momiji, Ryoko and I wanted to do this, so please make us happy and accept our gift to you."

Momiji looked at her mother who didn't say anything and then looked back at her special, foster father and friend and said lamely, "Thank you, Mr. Kunikida. I don't know what to say."

He winked at her and said, "Say that you'll come and visit Ryoko and I when we go back to Tokyo." and then he turned the conversation in another direction, "Where's Kusanagi?"

"He's in the house," Momiji responded.

"That's odd," Kunikida said, turning to stare at the door, "no one answered when I knocked on the door earlier. I just assumed that he had gone with you. I decided to have a cigarette before I left here since Ryoko won't let me smoke in the car. Lucky for me that you drove up when you did - But I wonder why Kusanagi didn't answer the door?"

Momiji bit her lip and hurried towards the house, saying over her shoulder, "He wasn't feeling well when we left. I hope he's okay."

Momiji let herself into the house and called Kusanagi's name, but there was no answer. She peeked into the kitchen hoping to find him at work on his portfolio, but the table was clean except for the mug of tea he'd had earlier and the bottle of aspirin she had left sitting there. Momiji turned and re-crossed the living room just as her mother and Mr. Kunikida came through the door.

"He isn't down here," she told them, "I'll go check upstairs and see if he's in his room."

Momiji quietly opened the door to his room and felt relief wash through her when she spotted Kusanagi lying on his bed, fully clothed in his faded blue jeans and black, button-down shirt on the bed. For a minute, she'd been afraid that she had aggravated him so much this morning that he had decided to flee back to his apartment in Tokyo. She tiptoed into the room, stepping around a towel bloodied from his wound of last night lying in the floor, and chided herself for giving reign to such a silly thought. But she forgot all about that as she got closer to the bed and discovered a new worry.

Kusanagi's breathing sounded ragged in his throat and his color was even higher than it had been this morning.

"Kusanagi?" she called softly, her voice full of concern as she bent towards him.

She put her hand to his face and alarm rocketed through her. His skin was hot and dry and his fever felt even higher than it had been this morning. She straightened back up, her heart pounding heavily in her chest and headed back downstairs.

One look at Momiji's face told Moe and Mr. Kunikida that something was wrong. "Kusanagi is really ill," she told them fretfully.

"Well, have you called a doctor?" Kunikida asked.

Both Moe and Momiji shook their heads in unison and Momiji said tightly, "He would never let me take him to a doctor, Mr. Kunikida. They probably wouldn't know what to do for him anyway. I wonder if I could get Ms. Matsudaira to come down from Tokyo and take a look at him," Momiji wondered aloud.

"You won't have to," Kunikida told her, "she's here in Izumo. I had her come in this morning to examine the severed arm of the Aragami. She's over at the lab right now. Moe, if youll let me borrow your car I'll go get her and bring her back here," he suggested and Momiji quickly nodded her head in agreement as Moe handed him her keys.

After he left, Momiji turned to Moe and told her to make herself at home, "I'm going to check on Kusanagi one more time." She turned and headed back upstairs while her mother went into the kitchen and started to make some tea, waiting for her daughter to return.

As Momiji crossed the room, Kusanagi slowly opened his eyes and she could tell that he was having a hard time focusing on her.

"Momiji," he said thickly, his voice scratchy and hoarse as he sat up and looked blearily around. "You're back already?"

"You need to be in bed," she told him , looking at him in disquiet.

"I am in bed." He pointed out, shocked at the sound of his own voice. God, was that really his voice?

"No," Momiji clarified, "I mean you need to put your pajamas on and climb under the covers, Kusanagi."

"No Momiji, I want to get up. I'm too hot to stay in bed," he argued and swung his legs over the side of the bed, "and I have a lot of work I need to do. Besides I wanted to go back to Akiko's house and take a look at the -" he broke off as Momiji come rushing over and pushed him off his feet, "- what the heck are you doing?"

"You need to put your pajamas on and get into bed," she insisted stubbornly.

"Like hell I do!" he snapped in an unruly way and tried to stand up again only to have her get in his way again. This wasn't right. How could Momiji, a petite girl with only one working arm run such an effective blockade? She was never that coordinated on the best of days and it baffled him that she was able to thwart his every effort to get up out of bed.

"You are not getting out of this bed, Kusanagi!" she huffed, pushing at him again, "so I wish you would just give up and take your clothes off!"

Thoroughly out of temper, and feeling too ill to argue with her anymore, Kusanagi gritted his teeth and dropped his hands down to his pants, unbuttoning them. At least he could exact a little revenge for her high-handed attitude, anyway, he told himself and he kept one eye on Momiji while he bent to his task, feeling satisfaction course through him at her reaction.

Momiji jumped back from him, her green eyes starting from her head.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked, her mouth falling open in shock.

"You should be careful what you wish for, Momiji." He told her as he slowly unzipped his pants and began to slide them down over his hips, thoroughly enjoying her discomfiture, his only revenge for her domineering attitude.

Momiji flung her fingers over her eyes and said jerkily, "you could at least wait until I leave the room!"

"Now what fun would that be, Princess?" came his hoarse but dry reply, which was spoiled when he sneezed.

Momiji spun away from him, her chestnut hair billowing out like a cloud behind her, and headed towards the door, saying over her shoulder as she went, "I'll be coming back up here in fifteen minutes, and you'd better be under the covers!"

To which he replied, "I'll be more than ready and waiting for you to keep me company," in his most suggestive tone just to rattle her further but swore under his breath as her next words reached him from the hallway.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, my mother is here. She'll be coming with me, so I suggest that you be ready for her as well."

Momiji trotted down the stairs and went into the kitchen, the color high in her face. She gathered up the bottle of aspirin and the thermometer before turning to her mother, who was sitting at the table with her tea. Momiji handed both items to her.

"Mom, would you take these up to Kusanagi for me?" she asked, avoiding her mother's gaze, "I'll be there in a minute. Kebooru hasn't been out since this morning and I just want to let her out for a few minutes."

She also wanted a few minutes to calm her rattled nerves, glad to be able to escape outside where the wind rushed soothingly against her hot face. Feeling a bit more composed now that the color in her cheeks was starting to subside, Momiji allowed her thoughts to drift a bit which was a mistake because they settled right on the image of Kusanagi unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down his narrow hips, watching her suggestively all the while.

Her face flared with color again and she wrestled with her troublesome thoughts, a question forming in the back of her mind regarding his provocative behavior. Was it the fever making him behave in this fashion, she wondered. Or could it be that after last night, he had begun to see the possibility of allowing himself to be a part of her life? Hope and longing welled up in her at the thought, but she squashed them before they had a chance to grow.

She had wanted to be close to him for so long, but it just didn't seem possible that he would suddenly change, not after the way he had steadfastly shut her out for the past year – really, the past three years. The more she thought about it the more bewildered she became. Even after last night's kiss, she had seen the conflict in his eyes and had known that he wouldn't give up his indifferent position so easily, and for that reason, the question surfaced again. Why had he behaved in such a free manner just now?

Thoroughly vexed at herself for thinking too much about it and vexed at Kusanagi for giving her something to think about, she pushed her thoughts aside and tried to round Kebooru up. She went through the same routine as she had earlier, chasing the little puppy around the yard and then, huffing and puffing from exertion, and holding the tiny body against her chest, Momiji went back inside.

With slow steps, Momiji climbed the stairs and went back into Kusanagi's room. Her eyes avoided the bed, and she looked for her mother.

Moe was standing by the window looking out and when Momiji came in she turned and said, "I thought I heard a car drive up. I'll just go and check to see if Mr. Kunikida is back yet."

Still avoiding looking at Kusanagi, Momiji kept her eyes pinned to her mother as she turned and left the room. After her mother had gone, Momiji stared at the open door and nervously fingered the top button of her sweater, wishing that she could think of something mundane to say, to help dispel the awkwardness she felt.

Kusanagi watched Momiji, wondering if her nervousness was due to his earlier actions and felt a fleeting moment of guilt for teasing her so unmercifully. Her hand fluttered nervously against her chest and he found his eyes drawn to where her slender fingers plucked at the tiny pearl button on her snug-fitting sweater, inches away from her breasts. He looked away then, but it was too late. Despite the fact that he felt like hell, just watching her for those few moments made him want her even more than he had wanted her the night before.

He should have never allowed himself that kiss, he realized with a grimace. It was like his sterile soul, deprived of the feelings of another for so long, had suddenly become achingly aware of the rush of life that swirled inside Momiji. And now, the seeds of hunger that had been planted so long ago when he had met her, burst into life, fed by his brief taste of her, and his desire sprang up within him like the green reawakening from winter. He wondered if he would be able to tame the wildness of the turbulent emotions that surged within him; cut them back until there was nothing left but the barrenness of before. But more importantly, he thought, did he really want to? All he knew, was right at this moment, he didn't want to think about it anymore. So to take his mind off of his troubling desires, he decided to indulge in his favorite pasttme and tease Momiji some more.

"I have to say I'm disappointed, Princess," he said in a gravelly voice, shifting onto his side so he could look at her. "I did exactly what you told me; put my pajamas on and climbed into bed, and you aren't even gracious enough to acknowledge my efforts."

Momiji rolled her eyes and snorted loudly at his words. "If your head were on fire, would I have to praise you for putting it out? I would think that such an action would be plain common sense, much in the same way as putting on your pajamas and climbing into bed is common sense when you're sick," she pointed out acerbically.

Momiji twisted her head in his direction as she spoke and noted that he had indeed climbed under the covers. But she couldn't see what good it was doing him since he was without a shirt, the bronze skin of his broad chest completely exposed. He wasn't even covered properly, she thought, incensed, the sheet hanging carelessly around his hips where she could see the dark waistband of a pair of snug-fitting shorts. Momiji's indignant eyes flitted over him, noting the wounds on his shoulder, which were now closed and only slightly pink, were more than half way healed, and she found her gaze drawn inexorably to the contours of his broad chest and the circle of four mitamas centered around his heart.

If you just looked at his body and not his face, Momiji thought vaguely, he didn't look sick at all. As a matter of fact, he exuded such a strong air of masculinity that she felt her breath catch in her throat and she struggled to keep her breathing even.

"Have I grown an extra set of ears, or something?" Kusanagi asked her, putting a hand up to the side of his head as if to make sure that that wasn't the case.

Momiji jumped a little, realizing that she had been caught standing there, drooling over him like a dog presented with the largest bone it had ever seen, and she let her gaze slide away from him to the nightstand where the aspirin and the thermometer sat. To distract herself, she walked over and picked the thermometer up.

"Have you taken your temperature again yet?"

"What do you think?" he asked in an infuriating manner.

"Yes?" she hazarded.

"Wrong answer!" he responded flippantly.

Momiji heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold on to her patience. He was sick, she thought peevishly, sick people were supposed to be more malleable, weren't they? Not Kusanagi, though, unless you counted the thickness of a crowbar as being malleable. But even a crowbar could be bent, she thought, if you applied a little heat and pressure to it.

What was required here, she thought firmly, was a little brute force. She had the little down pat, and, unfortunately, lacked the brute force part, but she would give it her best effort anyway. Momiji straightened her spine, walked over to the edge of the bed and stared down her nose at Kusanagi.

"Open your mouth," she ordered tartly while he just watched her indolently.

"Geez, Princess, I think you need to work on your bedside manner just a little," he informed her hoarsely, "you don't make a very good nurse," he told her and then sneezed, "remind me when I'm feeling better to teach you the right way to play doctor."

Heat scalded her face but he had given her the perfect opportunity to apply a little heat. She looked down at him, her eyebrows raised and murmured uncharacteristically, "Is that a promise, Kusanagi?" Embarrassed by her own words, the color in her face spread downwards to her neck and even stained the skin that lay exposed above the neckline of her sweater.

Kusanagi's eyes widened at her sudden bravado, as, for once, the tables were turned. He was at a loss for words, having expected her to react in her usual shy and awkward manner, and when she hadn't, found himself suddenly picturing just what it might be like to do a little medical research on her perfect little body. Before he could stop himself, his gaze swept hungrily over her, a heat flaring through him that had nothing to do with his temperature. He forced himself to look away, and when she held out the thermometer, he docilely took it from her and put it in his mouth, still not looking at her.

Heat and pressure, Momiji mumbled to herself. She would have to remember that, she thought while she waited on the thermometer. When it finally beeped, Momiji took it from Kusanagi, a frown of worry creasing her brow. His fever was so high now, that it wasn't even registering on the thermometer. Her gaze shifted back to Kusanagi but he had rolled onto his other side, away from her and had closed his eyes. Momiji looked back down at the thermometer and bit her lip. She would be glad when Ms. Matsudaira got there, she thought to herself and almost jumped from her skin when Matsu's husky voice spoke from the doorway.

"I hear you're not feeling too well, Kusanagi," she observed pleasantly.

Kusanagi's eyes snapped open and he jerked his head off his pillow long enough to give Matsu a hostile look and say, "What are you doing here?"

Matsu crossed to stand next to Momiji and replied, "I'm in Izumo analyzing the Aragami tissue that the TAC recovered last night. It's quite fascinating really."

"That's not what I meant," he replied with a heavy frown, his lips twisting sourly.

"You mean why am I'm here to see you? Momiji asked me to come because she's worried about you. And I can see why. You look terrible, Kusanagi." She opened the black bag she had been carrying and took out a few things.

Kusanagi shot Momiji a seething look but said to Matsu, "You can just pack up your little tool kit, turn right around and leave. I refuse to be your lab experiment."

Matsu stopped what she was doing, her brown eyes looking to Momiji for guidance.

Momiji, in turn, looked down at Kusanagi and said, "She just wants to do a few tests and draw some blood Kusanagi. She's the only one I knew I could trust _not_ to treat you like an experiment. " Kusanagi didn't say anything, so Momiji leaned forward, her concern for him shining brightly in her green eyes. "Please, Kusanagi. You're fever is getting worse and if we don't do something I'm afraid of what might happen."

Kusanagi didn't say anything for minute. He knew that he should probably do something. He felt like his body was filled with lead and his thoughts were beginning to get fuzzy. Despite the fuzziness, though, one fact stood out clearly: if he got much sicker, and the Aragami were to come back, he would be in no shape to protect Momiji. His face twisted into a scowl, resenting that he had no other options left to him. He looked from Momiji to Matsu and nodded his head sullenly.

Momiji breathed a soft sigh of relief and stood back to let Matsu do her work.

"Your chest is clear, Kusanagi," she told him after she finished examining him, "which is a good sign."

"But what about the fever?" Momiji asked anxiouly.

Matsu looked at Kusanagi in a considering way and said, "It's really hard to tell since I don't have a baseline to work from, but just guessing, I would say it's still high, even for someone who's part plant," she smiled slightly and continued, "It will take me a couple of hours to analyze these samples, and hopefully after that, I will be able to tell you something more," Matsu told her. 'Just try to keep him comfortable in the meantime." Matsu said looking at Momiji and then continued, her gaze sliding back to Kusanagi, "As soon as you're feeling better, Kusanagi, I want you to bring Momiji down to the lab. I should have some information on the Aragami that might help you track them down by then."

She took the vials filled with green blood and packed them carefully away, promising Momiji that she would start working on them as soon as she got back to the lab. And then she was gone.

Mr. Kunikida and Moe were quick to follow her and so an awkward Momiji found herself alone with a sullen and moody Kusanagi.

Kusanagi still had his back to her and she gazed uncertainly at him. "Are you angry?" she asked timidly.

"Just wait until I feel better Momiji," he promised in his hoarse voice, "I will have my revenge for today's little piece of work."

"Kusanagi –"

"Leave me alone, Momiji," he demanded in a tired voice, "I want to go to sleep."

Momiji didn't say anything else, but left his room, biting her lip and hoping Matsu would call soon with the results of her lab work and wondering what kind of revenge Kusanagi would exact from her.


	10. 9: Child of the Moon

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER NINE

It had been a long time since she had been here, Kaede thought, standing in the darkness. However her journey here was not one of remembrance, but of renewal. She began to move, traveling the dark passage, her feet unsullied by the damp stone as she drifted quietly towards its end. Shimmering echoes of the child Susano-oh and the strong aura of the prideful Murakumo accompanied her on her journey. It had been another Kaede that had traveled here then, she thought, a mere child incapable of truly understanding the will of Lord Susano-oh.

Kaede sighed wistfully, wishing that she had known then what she knew now. But the nexperience of her youth and her naiveté had been the sins that had kept her from truly understanding the will of her husband until it was almost too late. Momiji had paid the price for Kaede's mistake, offering herself as a willing sacrifice for what she believed and Kaede would never forget that. Youth and naiveté had been her sins, both of which she had shed with the growth of her spirit which was now caught in the currents of time unending.

She had shed her sins, but the same could not be said of Murakumo, Kaede thought bitterly as she reached the end of the passage where it opened into an antechamber of stone, the clear stillness of a pool as its centerpiece. Kaede ignored the pool and made her way around its edge, thinking about the Aragami prince who had sought to become a god.

The originations of his sins were pride and ambition, and they had led him to strike out against Susano-oh, seeking to claim the power and immortality that heaven had granted her husband. Murakumo had paid a heavy price for his betrayal, and like Kaede, he did not bear the burden of its measure alone.

Kaede followed the natural curving, stone wall of the antechamber to the deepest corner, stopping only when the light of her aura revealed the girl that suffered doubly the burden of Murakumo's sins. Kaede's heart filled with hatred for Murakumo as she gazed at the young girl who had lain in deep slumber for these three long years.

She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen at the most, although if she had been allowed to live her life normally, she would be closer to Momiji's age. She was petite, her white hair falling like moonbeams against the fragile curve of her cheek and spilling down her shoulders and across a waist made thick with child. Kaede's eyes softened with compassion as she crouched down beside her and stretched her hand in front of the girl's face as if to touch her, but hesitating. Kaede's heart was filled with sorrow for this woman-child and she stood back up.

"You must awaken her Kaede. She must complete the journey that she began three years ago."

Kaede heard her husband's voice commanding her through the darkness, and yet she still hesitated.

"She is just a child, my lord," Kaede entreated, "is there no way that we can help her?"

"Her destiny lies along a path that she alone chose, and I cannot alter her future. She is human and yet she sleeps the sleep of Aragami. It is a part of her destiny and yet the flow of time within her has only slowed and not stopped, an unnatural state for a human but necessary for her, for the protection of her unborn child. She has had nothing but her dreams to sustain her for these past three years and her body has become frail.

"If you do not awaken her, the Tengugaki will find her and they will rip her apart, seeking to devour the heart of innocence within her. Even now they gather in the gloom outside the iwattos, feeling the growing resonance of the stone and water as the dreamer's time of awakening draws near. We cannot save her, but we can save her child, Kaede. We must save her child. It is the only way."

Kaede bowed her dark head in resignation and sighed. She crouched down once more and stretched out her hand. This time, she touched the girl's forehead with the tips of her fingers, and the emanations of her aura glowed brightly against the girl's skin as it penetrated into her mind, reawakening that part of her that lay so deep in slumber. As the girl began to awaken, the strength of Kaede's presence began to fade into the etherealness of a dream where she could only watch as the girl opened her violet eyes and looked around.

Hikaru slowly opened her eyes and sat up, feeling weak and disoriented. Where was she? What was she doing here? A sudden pain gripped her around the middle and she gasped and put her hands to her rounded stomach. She reeled with shock as the pain subsided, realizing that she was pregnant. What happened? How come she couldn't remember anything? And where was Tsurugi?

Hikaru struggled to her feet, concentrating on what she last remembered. She stumbled forward towards the pool of water feeling suddenly thirsty and bent clumsily down to drink from the still water. She scooped up a handful, causing ripples to break across the smooth surface, eddies shimmering with fragmented light much like her memory. Hikaru gulped the water thirstily, and a sudden image of Tsurugi leading her to this place flashed through her mind.

You'll be safe here until I come for you, he had told her. Safe from what, she had asked and he had never answered. He had turned away from her and left her without looking back, and she had waited as he had told her to do. That was the last thing she remembered.

She climbed back to her feet and began to stumble towards the only passageway leading away from the pool, and put her hand to her stomach. What was wrong with her, she wondered, that she couldn't remember yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that? She didn't become pregnant overnight, so how come she couldn't remember any of her pregnancy? And what had become of Tsurugi?

She could see feeble daylight ahead of her now and she hurried towards it only to stop as something massive leaped out at her, its deadly claws silhouetted against the light. A scream froze in her throat as it bore down on her and in a reflexive gesture she covered her belly with her hands. It was almost on top of her, its roar echoing off the stone walls when a sudden burst of blue lightning came from behind her. It struck the beast squarely in the chest, and the creature was thrown against the wall like a rag doll. A ragged screech rose from its throat as it struggled to free itself from the light that kept it pinioned to the wall, but Hikaru didn't wait to see if it would break free. She scrambled past it towards the light. As she escaped into the open air and away from the iwatto, she could still hear the beast's cries of rage coming from the passageway. She kept moving until she couldn't hear it anymore and then she collapsed upon the cold ground, sobbing. Where was she to go? What was she to do?

"Come, Hikaru. Follow me." It was the voice of a woman.

Hikaru's tears ceased and she looked around, but there was no one.

"You must complete your journey, young one," the voice proclaimed, "you must follow me."

Hikaru's face went blank as a sudden peaceful sensation drifted over her, her worries fading into the nothingness of the void that had enveloped her. She rose to her feet, her violet eyes expressionless as she moved forward to the bidding of the voice that beckoned her.

Yaegashi clenched his lips together. His hands paused in their typing as he felt Sakura lean over his shoulder, her breasts brushing up against his back, for what seemed like the tenth time, ostensibly to study the data on Kusanagi's blood that Matsu had given him, but more likely than not, just to enjoy stirring up trouble. He felt his face redden uncomfortably as he heard his wife's strident tones issue yet another warning to Sakura.

"You do that one more time, Sakura, and, I swear to god, I'll make sure that you'll be wearing your boobs on your back!" Kome's blue eyes burned brightly with her anger while she watched Sakura slowly turn and give her an assessing look without moving away from Yaegashi.

Kome jerked her feet off of Matsu's desk and jumped to her feet, her posture menacing and Sakura, seeing that she meant business backed down, finally moving away from Yaegashi, her hands held defensively in front of her.

"Okay, okay!" she said, rolling her crimson eyes, "jeez, you guys are no fun at all!" She crossed her arms over her breast and turned petulantly towards the window. "It's so boring here," she whined, "why are we here anyway? Why don't we go back to Tokyo?"

"Because," Ms. Matsudaira said, looking up from the Erlenmeyer flask she was holding to directly answer Sakura's question, "the Aragami are here, not in Tokyo. Well be staying here on Mr. Kunikida's orders until we've had another sighting or had proof that the Aragami have moved on."

"Well, can't they at least afford a bigger place?" Sakura demanded waving a languid hand around the small office and lab, "I mean we're all jammed in here like sardines!"

"Why don't you just shut up!" Kome suggested, her temper flaring brighter than the red of her hair. " – You think I want I want to be cooped up in here with a narcissistic nutball like you!? NO! – But you don't hear me whining about it, do you?"

Ms. Matsudaira had finally had enough, having listened to their verbal wrangling for the last several hours.

She thunked the flask down on the table and said with strained patience, "Please! Both of you! I can't work when you behave like this! Could you please just call a truce for the next hour or so, so Yaegashi and I can finish what we're doing?"

Neither woman said anything, but Yaegashi drew Matsu's attention away from them with his triumphant exclamation.

"I'm finished!" he cried.

Matsu bustled over to him and squinted down at the computer. "That's amazing, Yaegashi! I didn't think you could finish so quickly."

Yaegashi swelled with pride, but his voice was all modesty as he said, "It really wasn't that difficult. Kusanagi's serum is relatively similar to that of a normal human, it's the platelets and the hemoglobin that are so different. " Yaegashi hit a key on the computer and all the data shifted into a formula. "Here," he said, pointing to the equation on the screen, "is what you're looking for. "

Kome had come to stand next to Matsu and she looked down at the screen, puzzlement on her face. 'What is that?"

"In essence, " Matsu told her as she printed the compound out, "it's an antibiotic for Kusanagi."

"You mean, you're going to make a fertilizer for Plant Boy?" Sakura joked disdainfully and snorted when everyone just ignored her.

"If I start to work on this now, I should be able to get it to Momiji before nightfall," Matsu said, going back over to her lab table and immersing herself in her work.

Momiji sat at the kitchen table staring down at the numbers on her computer, a puzzled frown on her face.

"This can't be right, can it?" she muttered to herself and picked up her data sheets, paging through them to correlate what she was seeing on her computer screen.

Before she could find the sheet she was looking for, she heard a knock on her front door and was forced to abandon her search. She pattered into the living room and looked out the window. It was Ms. Matsudaira. Momiji hurriedly yanked the door open and let her in.

With a big smile, Matsu held up a vial of powder and said, "With Yaegashi's help, I was able to get through before I thought I would. This is some medicine for Kusanagi. Dissolve it in a glass of water and have him drink it. He should be feeling much better in a few days or so."

Momiji took the vial from her, a look of patent relief on her face as she offered her profuse thanks to Ms. Matsudaira.

"That's what we're here for, isn't it?" was all Matsu said.

Clutching the vial tightly, Momiji changed the subject, her thoughts returning to her data on the iwatto. "Can you come and look at something for me while you're here?" She asked, and Matsu, after giving her a look of inquiry, followed Momiji into the kitchen where Momiji showed her the numbers she was compiling.

Matsu leaned over her computer while Momiji filled a glass of water and dumped the powder that Matsu had given her into it. "Hmmm," Matsu said, putting her finger to her chin, "this shows an abnormal amount of particle ionization, almost like an electrochemical reaction is occurring."

Momiji put a spoon in the glass and stirred the water until the powder dissolved. She set the spoon next to the glass on the counter and turned to look at Matsu. 'Do you think that this has anything to do with the new Aragami?"

Matsu turned and absently met Momiji's gaze, her mind busily sifting through several possibilities. She looked back at the computer screen, baffled. "In all honesty, I just don't know. Perhaps it would help if we were to make a comparison of the other iwattos and see what those results yielded."

"Midori's in Ise," Momiji offered, "her parents live there and she's visiting them for the weekend. We could ask her to stop by the iwatto before she heads back to Tokyo. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"And I could send Kome and Yaegashi to Takachiho to get some samples from there," Matsu commented, adding mostly to herself, "and if we don't find out anything useful, at least it will keep Kome and Sakura from being at each other's throats for a while." She smiled at the thought and said, "It's settled then, I'll call Midori and ask her to go by the iwatto in Ise on official TAC business, and I'll also have Yaegashi and Kome check out the other iwatto. And you too, Momiji," she added as an afterthought, "you could go back to the iwatto here some time tomorrow and resample the area to make sure that it wasn't just an aberration." Momiji nodded her head in acquiescence and Matsu pointed to the glass on the counter, "you'll need to give that to him soon, and I don't imagine it tastes too good, so you might want to warn him beforehand."

Momiji grimaced. In Kusanagi's mind it would only be one more grievance to add to the growing list he had started against her since he had fallen ill. Seeing the look on Momiji's face, Matsu gave a little chuckle and patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"Most men make lousy patients," she told her as Momiji walked her to the door, "acting like big babies over the smallest of things."

"You can say that again," Momiji mumbled sourly, "He's so cranky right now that I don't know if I should try fluffing his pillow or burping him instead."

Matsu laughed and replied, "The best advice I can give you is to stay out of his way until he feels better. He'll be back to his normal self in no time." And with that she turned and left, leaving Momiji to go back into the kitchen for Kusanagi's medicine.

Kusanagi's body jerked all over, he was so cold. He gritted his teeth together to keep them from clacking against each other and felt a stab of pain shoot from his jaw to the top of his head, which was already pounding. He pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders trying to draw some warmth from them, and then his body curled into itself as his mitamas began to glow and a wave of pain crashed over him. Momiji, he thought forcing his eyes open and tried to focus on the room around him. The last two times his mitamas had done this, Momiji had been in trouble.

With great effort, Kusanagi pushed his body away from the mattress, panting from the effort, beads of sweat, forming on his fevered skin. His breath was suddenly cut off and he doubled over drawing his body towards his knees resting against the mattress as another severe wave of pain rose in a crescendo and swept over him.

"Momiji!" he bellowed hoarsely, his teeth bared against the pain. He managed to slide to the edge of the bed, the room slipping in and out of focus as he put his feet on the floor. _Where was she?_ he thought, panicked. "Momiji!" he yelled again, his voice cutting in and out as it threatened to quit altogether and he struggled to his feet.

The room spun and he swayed, barely able to maintain his balance, his body getting heavier with each passing second. His mitamas still glowed ominously and the pain flowed in pulsating waves, almost immobilizing him, but he had to find Momiji. He had to make sure that she was safe.

Momiji had just returned to the kitchen and had picked up the glass of medicine to take to Kusanagi when she heard his voice calling to her. Her heart froze at the panicked sound of it, and she put the glass back on the counter and sprinted from the kitchen. She was halfway up the stairs when he called again and she tried to answer, but she tripped on the last tread and her response was nothing more than an _ummmph!_ as she landed hard against the top step..

Clambering to her feet she rushed into his room to find him out of bed, his mitamas glowing brightly as he reeled drunkenly into the center of the room.

"Kusanagi!" she cried in alarm and rushed to help him, seeing that he was ready to collapse.

As she neared him, he swayed forward, his body colliding with hers, his weight and momentum driving her backwards. She put her arms around him and tried to steady him, but it was no use. He was just so much bigger than her. She reeled under his weight, trying to maintain her own balance now as they went crashing into the closet. Momiji's feet slid out from beneath her as she tripped over something lying in the bottom of the closet and she was squashed between the wall of Kusanagi's chest and the wall of the closet. Together they slid down stopping only when they reached the ground. Momiji lay panting pinned beneath Kusanagi whose body was wracked with shivers, his mitamas no longer aglow.

"Why didn't you answer me, dammit?" he demanded his teeth clenched as his body continued to shudder with fever.

Momiji squirmed beneath him, her palms pushing weakly against his chest. "You're crushing me!" she croaked in a strained voice.

Kusanagi pulled himself off of her and collapsed in the floor, face down, shivering and too weak to move. Breathing freely now, Momiji sat up, her eyes pinned to Kusanagi, and she reached out and touched his back. Despite his shivers, he was alarmingly hot to the touch. At the feel of her hand, he turned and looked at her, anger burning dully in his eyes.

"Where the hell were you?" he snarled hoarsely.

"I was downstairs –"

"Why the hell didn't you answer me, Momiji!" he continued to rant, "jeez, you took ten years off my life. I thought something had happened to you!" He stopped as his body shook with a strong chill and he clamped his mouth shut to keep from biting his own lip.

Momiji scrambled to her knees and crawled over to Kusanagi, struggling to get him to his feet and back into bed. He was able to help her, but only marginally since most of his strength had been used up by his mitamas.

"I was downstairs, leaving you alone like you requested, Kusanagi. And why would you think something had happened to me?" She huffed, weaving to and fro as they crossed the room, her arm around his waist and his arm slung across her shoulders.

"My mitamas," he panted hoarsely collapsing, exhausted, across the bed as they reached it.

"That's right," Momiji observed as she yanked at the sheet caught beneath Kusanagi's hip, trying to pull if free so she could cover him up. 'They were glowing, weren't they? How come?"

"I don't know," Kusanagi replied in a faint voice, his eyes squeezed shut in a grimace as he huddled miserably under the sheet that Momiji had managed to pull free. "This is the third time it's happened. The first was the night of your accident, and the second, last night when Kaede led me to you –"

"Kaede?" Momiji asked in a slight shriek, unable to control the irrational bolt of jealousy shooting through her, "you saw Kaede?"

Kusanagi tiredly opened one eye and looked at Momiji's agitated countenance. "No, I didn't see Kaede," he mumbled, "but I heard her. She led me to you Momiji. She helped me to save you." He groaned and turned his head away, the sheets shuddering against his body as he trembled beneath them.

"Let me get you an extra blanket," she said in concern and quickly flitted over to the closet. She almost tripped and fell again as her toe collided with the corner of a solid object, knocking it over. She heard something spill across the floor but she ignored whatever it was, shuffling to maintain her balance as she reached up and grabbed a blanket from the top shelf. "Ms. Matsudaira brought you some medicine," she told Kusanagi quietly as she threw the blanket over him, tucking it around his body. "I was just about to bring it up when you called. I'll go get it now," she said and turned to go when his voice stopped her.

"Momiji," he stopped when she turned, her green eyes focused on him, "stay," he told her, closing his eyes as if to deny he had made the request. The fact that he had another episode with his mitamas worried him, and if she was in danger he couldn't protect her. Not in his current condition. But if she stayed with him he could be assured that she was all right. "I want to make sure that you're safe." He mumbled his eyes still closed.

Momiji kneeled next to the bed and allowed herself to reach out and brush his greenish black hair away from his fevered brow. It was so soft, she thought as her fingers lingered there for a few seconds longer.

"I'll be all right, Kusanagi," she told him softly, "I just want to go downstairs and get your medicine. You really need it, you're burning up with fever." She pulled her hand away from his face, getting ready to stand when she felt her wrist captured in a surprisingly strong grip. And then Momiji found herself pulled forward against the bed, unable to rise.

"No, Momiji," he replied adamantly, another shudder wracking his body so that his fingers tightened around her wrist. "Stay."

His eyes were still closed, but he wasn't letting go of her, even when she tried tugging experimentally against his grip. With a sigh, her efforts to free herself subsided and she slid to a sitting position on the floor, her wrist still held in Kusanagi's grasp. She tried looking at her watch, but unless she twisted back to her feet, she couldn't see it. So she stayed where she was, glancing at the fading light outside the window. She needed to get that medicine, she thought fretfully as she leaned her head against the bed and listened to his breathing. He was just going to get worse without it.

Momiji didn't know how long she sat there, but the light outside the window had long faded when she felt Kusanagi's grip relax on her arm, finally slipping into uneasy slumber. Momiji climbed stiffly to her feet, her back hurting from sitting in such an awkward position for so long and she quietly left the room to go downstairs and get the medicine. She picked it up and turned to take it back to Kusanagi, but hesitated. Maybe she should make him some some shoga-yu and some miso soup, she thought, biting her lip in indecision. He hadn't had anything to drink since his early morning tea and the shoga-yu might help his fever to break a little. And he hadn't had anything to eat all day either. Come to think of it, neither had she, she realized as her stomach gurgled.

I'll just go and check on him, she thought, and if his fever is worse then I'll wake him up and give him the medicine. She took the glass upstairs and entered his room as quietly as she could. He was still asleep, but at least his shivers had subsided, she thought with relief. His fever was still high, though and so she put her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. He jerked awake with a start, looking confused as to where he was and Momiji had to call his name several times before he focused his cat-like eyes in her direction.

"I brought you your medicine," she told him as she helped him to sit up, putting the glass in his hand.

He just stared blankly at it without raising it to his lips. "What's in it?" he asked hoarsely, his voice almost completely gone now.

"You mean besides the water?" she asked, and, when he shot her a sardonic look, added in all honesty, "Ummm, I'm not really sure, but Ms. Matsudaira was positive that it would help you." She pushed encouragingly at his hand to get him to drink it and he finally raised it to his lips and took a small sip, sputtering at the bitter taste. "Oh, yeah," Momiji added as an afterthought, "she told me to tell you that it would probably taste really bad, but that you should drink it anyway."

Kusanagi rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the warning, Momiji."

She gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry," she said and pushed at the glass in his hand again, wanting him to finish it.

He glared at her then. "Quit pushing, dammit!"

"I just want you to drink it," she responded defensively, "or you won't get better!"

"I'm going to drink it!" he flared up at her, "just give me a minute!"

"Fine!" she said and she turned on her heel to leave.

"Where are you going?" he wanted to know in a suddenly apprehensive voice.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm going back downstairs," she informed him in an affronted way as she watched him drain the glass with a grimace.

"No, Momiji, stay." He said, reaching over and putting the empty glass on the table.

It sounded more like an order than a request to Momiji and she felt a spark of rebellion well up in her. Who did he think he was? Her father? "I think you'll do fine without my presence for a little while," she told him dismissively and looked away from him. She had only taken a few steps when she heard the bed creak and she turned around again to see Kusanagi trying to get out of bed. "What are you doing?" she asked in alarm, her arms outstretched, as she sprinted over to try and keep him from getting up. "Do you want to end up on the floor like before?"

She managed to push him back down on the bed and then realized she had done exactly what he had expected her to do when she saw the triumphant gleam in his eye and felt his fingers wrap around her wrist in an uncompromising grip. She frowned at him and made a frustrated noise, tugging at her wrist, but he held fast to her.

"I'm sorry, Momiji, but this is the only way I can keep an eye on you and know that you're safe."

He phrased it as an apology, but he didn't sound the least bit sorry, she thought sourly. In fact, he sounded downright pleased at having been able to manipulate her into doing exactly what he wanted her to do.

"Kusanagi," she told him repressively, "you're being silly. I am perfectly safe here. Nothing is going to hurt me."

"That's right," he responded and closed his eyes, "because you are staying _right here,_ with me."

'Come on, Kusanagi," she said and he tugged on her arm so that she was forced to get on her knees next to the bed. It was either that, or lay on the bed next to him. "Be reasonable!" and when he didn't say anything, unwisely added, "you're being very childish."

His eyes snapped open at that and he looked at her. "You'd better stop complaining while you're ahead, Princess," he warned her and then sneezed, "hell hath no fury like a man belittled," he told her meaningfully and closed his eyes again.

Momiji groaned and slid to the floor to assume her earlier position. Fortunately for her, the medicine Kusanagi had swallowed must have had some kind of sedative in it, for he was back to sleep within fifteen minutes and Momiji was able to slip away and return to the kitchen.

She spent quite a while preparing the ingredients for the soup and painstakingly grating up the ginger for the shoga-yu and her body drooped with fatigue once the soup was finally simmering. She looked at her watch and was horrified to see that it was after ten. It would still be a few minutes before she could dish up the soup, she thought tiredly, so she took Kebooru out for her final sprint around the yard and then went upstairs and put her pajamas on. She thought of taking the food to Kusanagi and then going straight to bed, since she was so tired. She had been hungry earlier, but she had waited so long to eat that she didn't really feel all that hungry anymore and found the idea of an early night much more appealing.

Momiji padded back down to the kitchen and checked on the soup. Then she put some water on to boil to add to the ginger and the honey she had already put in a cup for the shoga-yu. She got out a tray, put a bowl on it and ladled some soup into the bowl. The kettle started to sing and she was able to add the water to the mug that she had set on the tray as well. Grabbing up a spoon and a napkin, she carried the tray back to Kusanagi's room.

She put the tray at the foot of the bed, and put a hand to Kusanagi's shoulder. Relief flooded through her when she touched him. The medicine was already working, she realized. His skin was still warm to the touch, but it was much cooler than before.

"I made you some soup," she told him as he opened his eyes at the touch of her hand .

"I thought I asked you to stay with me," he said grumpily as he sat up and pushed onto the floor the blanket that she had put over him earlier. He was too hot, and his body beginning to sweat from the heat of it.

"Well," Momiji replied matter-of-factly, "I thought you might be hungry." She picked the tray up and sat it across his lap, smiling shyly at him. "No cement this time, I promise."

Kusanagi looked down at the steaming bowl of soup. It did look good and didn't even closely resemble what she had served him the night before. "You made this?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, why is that so hard to believe," she asked with just a hint of tartness.

"No, well, it's just," he muttered looking down into the bowl, "it's such a vast improvement over what we had last night."

"Well, I did tell you that if you had gotten home a lot sooner, it would have been better."

"You mean it would have actually been edible?" he asked as he took a sip of the shoga-yu.

"Kusanagi!" she fumed, making to grab the tray, "if all you're going to do is insult me, then you can go hungry!" She didn't really mean it, but was glad when he grabbed the tray to keep her from taking it away.

"I was only teasing," he told her and watched a pleased smile curve her lips when he added, "it looks really good, Momiji." He picked up the spoon and tasted the soup. It was really good. "Why aren't you eating?" he wanted to know as he took another bite.

"I'm not really hungry," she told him truthfully, still standing next to the bed, not adding that she could probably lie down on the floor and go straight to sleep.

He was watching her speculatively, his gaze flitting over her as he ate his soup. Momiji began to fidget under his close scrutiny, uncomfortably picking at the top button of her nightgown and, as she did so, she watched a slow cat-like smile appear on his face.

"First it was pink teddies, now it's blue bunnies. Don't you own anything more…adult?" he wanted to know and watched as the color rose from her neck all the way into her forehead.

"What is you're fascination with my nighttime apparel?" she wanted to know grumpily, "it's comfortable and it's warm. I doubt that you could suggest something better!" she shot at him and realized her mistake as she watched his smile widen into an unholy grin.

"Well," he said, pushing the tray with the empty soup bowl aside as he gave her a considering look, "one or two choices come to mind," he told her, his voice rasping hoarsely despite his teasing manner. "One of them would be, of course something you seem to like – pink teddies, or rather a pink teddy. " he pretended not to notice her mounting discomfort as he continued, "of course they aren't quite as _voluminous _as what you're wearing now, and I doubt you could find one made of flannel, since they're usually made of something a little sexier, like silk, but hey, you can't have everything… come to think of it, they probably aren't as comfortable as what you're wearing now, either, so I guess that isn't really a good suggestion if all you're considering is, er _sleepwear_. What a pity." He heaved a mocking sigh, his eyes pinned to her, noting that she was so embarrassed now, that she wouldn't even meet his gaze. "But there's always my second choice," he murmured, gleefully anticipating her reaction, "a highly _desirable _alternative, if you ask me. It would be infinitely more practical and _much_ more comfortable. Even more comfortable than what you're wearing now."

"More comfortable than what I'm wearing now?" she mumbled dubiously, sliding him a shy look from underneath her lashes as she picked the tray up off the bed and set it on the floor, to give herself something to do.

"Yes, much more comfortable," he assured her, waiting for her to take the bait.

"What could possibly be more comfortably than what I'm wearing now?" she asked, rising to take the bait.

"Why, nothing at all," he replied blandly his eyes gleaming madly when she finally understood what he was saying, her face buzzing with furious color.

"Very funny," she said, her bottom lip stuck out in a cute pout.

He was in a dangerous mood, she thought. Better make a hasty retreat while she still had a little of her dignity in tact, she decided and rushed forward to take the tray from the floor.

As she bent down for the tray, he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her off her feet, pulling her onto the bed with him where she landed with a soft _oof!_

She started squirming immediately, but he held her fast, her back pulled up hard against his chest, "Just what do you think you're doing!?" she demanded, her arms and legs flailing as she strained to free herself.

"I told you not to leave, Momiji," he told her, his breath tickling her ear, "twice, as a matter of fact. And now I'm going to make sure that you stay put. There was a reason my mitamas were glowing, and I just want to make sure that you're safe. This is the only way I can protect you right now,"

"Protect!? HA! That's a laugh!" she retorted in a strained voice, "I would call it bullying!"

"Call it what you want," he responded easily, holding her with little effort, "but you're not going anywhere for the rest of the night, so I suggest you just make yourself comfortable."

She groaned in frustration but refused to give up. "You must be feeling bet-ter," she huffed, still twisting and turning, even planting her feet against his legs and pushing with all her might to no avail.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I can't get free, darn it!" she panted and stopped moving, exhausted.

He gave a husky laugh, his arm still around her and asked lowly, "Are you finished yet?"

"Do you want to give me your cold? Is that the revenge you have planned?" she asked, seething.

"Oh, no, I have something much better in mind for my revenge," he replied smoothly, "and as far as getting sick, you've already been exposed to me enough today that a little more exposure isn't going to make a difference."

Momiji didn't say anything else because she just didn't know what to say. Kusanagi, taking her silence as capitulation, yanked the sheet from underneath her hip and threw it over her body, his other arm still anchoring her in place. Then Momiji felt him reach back for something and a feather pillow flopped against the side of her head, obscuring her vision. She pulled it off of her face, and shoved it viciously beneath her head, still seething.

"Go to sleep, Princess." He told her.

And surprisingly, she did.


	11. 10: Coming of the King

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TEN

Kusanagi had had dreams about Momiji before, but never one quite so vividly provocative. Not that Kusanagi didn't have realistic dreams; quite the opposite: his dreams were often vivid, colors of people and places splashing brightly across the canvas of his mind. But this dream went beyond that. In his mind, Momiji lay warm and lifelike next to him in quiet slumber, her breathing deep and even. She had her back to him and her hair spilled like tangled silk across the arm he had carelessly thrown around her waist. Never before could he remember feeling so intensely the soft texture of her hair and the warmth of her body as he did now. He could even smell the slight fragrance of honeysuckle that clung to her hair.

Losing himself in the dream, he buried his face against the nape of her neck. Long, silky, chestnut strands caressed his cheek as he touched his lips to the warm, ivory column of her neck, and he felt a slow heat begin to build inside his veins. He tightened his arm around her, slowly pulling her body to his, molding her soft curves to his rigid, hardness. The heat inside him flared even higher and he allowed himself the pleasure of exploring the taste and texture of what he had denied himself for so long in reality.

Momiji snuggled deeper into her pillow, still hovering on the edge of sleep, and felt something soft and warm brush against her neck. Kebooru, she thought, without opening her eyes. A slight smile curved her lips until she felt a hand press against the flat of her stomach, pulling her backwards. Momiji's eyes snapped open wide then, reeling in shock as she felt the warmth of a human body penetrating the thick folds of her flannel nightgown. In that moment, the reality of where she was and how she had come to be there came crashing back to her.

The pressure against her neck increased, and Momiji felt Kusanagi's mouth open against her, branding her with a kiss, his tongue playing along her sensitive skin. A molten heat began to flow through Momiji, and her heart fluttered like a captive bird against her ribs. All of a sudden her limbs felt indolent and heavy, as the pleasure of the contact between her and Kusanagi stole away her strength. She felt her emotions begin to take over, dominating her good sense and Momiji struggled to maintain clarity of thought as warning bells sounded in her head. She needed to tell him to stop, she thought. Now, before things got out of hand.

"K-kusanagi?" she breathed timidly and received no verbal response.

She opened her mouth the speak his name again, but felt her voice freeze in her throat as Kusanagi's hand, which had been stationed against her stomach, trailed downward to the hem of her bunched up nightgown. He slid his hand beneath the blue bunnies and her brain turned to mush as she felt Kusanagi's warm touch graze the exposed skin of her legs, the leather of his glove rasping against her.

Momiji sucked in her breath as she felt his fingers softly feather against her, slowly sliding upward, pushing her gown aside as he went, and leaving a trail of heat in his wake. With the tips of his fingers, he explored the soft curve of her thigh and the flare of her hip, sloping downwards again to her waist where he let his fingers circle lazily around her navel. Momiji tried to say something, tried to tell him to stop, but all that came out was a strangled moan.

She closed her eyes as Kusanagi's lips trailed from her neck to the line of her jaw, and she turned her face towards him, desperately wanting to feel his lips against hers. He fulfilled her desire, his lips swiftly claiming hers in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth to taste her sweetness and she heard him groan, his hand restlessly moving from her stomach past her ribs to cup her breast. With his thumb, he slowly circled the pink bud that crowned her breast until it tightened with desire and without knowing how, Momiji found herself rolled onto her back.

Momiji moaned against Kusanagi's mouth as he continued to kiss her fervently and she threaded her fingers through the greenish black, softness at the nape of his neck, as his body hovered over her, without touching her, one of his knees planted firmly between her thighs.

Kusanagi let his hands roam over Momiji's body beneath the flannel, going from her breast to her stomach, and then sliding upward to her face and threading through the silky, softness of her chestnut hair as he finally settled his body on top of hers. Momij found herself pressed into the softness of the mattress and she arched against him as his mouth moved away from her own to trail hotly across her face and neck and then again return hungrily to her lips.

His kisses rained down on her, drowning her in a sea of desire, his fingers trailing softly against her cheeks and neck as his hands continued their sensual journey downward and around her waist to her back, curving around her buttocks. Then Momiji felt him nudge his leg against her, coaxing her legs apart. She complied and he slid his body between her thighs to lie against her. Cupping her buttocks, he pulled her tightly against the hardness of his arousal and despite the barrier of fabric between them, Momiji's green eyes shot open at the intimate contact. She gripped his shoulders tightly, the liquid heat of her body beginning to pool between her thighs as he moved restlessly against her.

Kusanagi was fully aroused, thick and heavy with passion, and as he pressed against Momiji, his body cried for release. If he didn't try to wake up and open his eyes, he thought, abashed, he was in imminent danger of embarrassing himself by finding satisfaction from a dream. Wanting to end it and prolong it at the same time, he found himself reluctant to pull away, gentling his kiss until he lay in stillness, his body aching and his breathing ragged. Slowly he forced his eyes open, and found himself staring down into the wide emerald green of Momiji's eyes.

Kusanagi's own cat-like eyes widened then, his body going rigid in shock.

"I – I… - M-momiji!?" his voice cracked as he stuttered her name in panic and watched confusion cloud her beautiful eyes at his reaction.

As quickly as he could, he rolled away from her and sat up, pulling the sheet tightly around his waist to hide his rampantly obvious desire. Thoroughly distracted, Kusanagi ran a hand through his hair as a way of avoiding having to look at her as she, too, sat up without speaking. He could feel the uncertainty and confusion in her gaze as she looked at him, but he still couldn't bring himself to look at her.

He drew in a shaky breath, knowing he should say something. "I'm sorry, Momiji, I shouldn't have – " he began and stopped as he felt her turn away from him, slipping quietly from the bed.

He turned and looked at her then, as she bent down and picked up the blanket he had shoved off the bed last night and mechanically began to fold it, desperately searching for her composure. His behavior towards her when he had discovered that what he had been experiencing was more than just a dream had been less than complimentary, and Kusanagi knew he had hurt her with his unthinking reaction. Her expression was that of a bewildered child who had been scolded and didn't know why, and she held her body in a defensiveness posture, her arms pulled tightly inwards towards the blue bunnies covering her body as if to protect herself from harm.

"Momiji," he tried again, "I didn't mean –"

"Don't," she said, suddenly looking at him, her lips still swollen from their kisses. Her eyes were vibrantly clear, and he glimpsed a poignant sadness in them before she looked away again. "It hurts too much to think that you didn't mean it, Kusanagi, that you would deny what happened and erase it if you could," she finished quietly.

You're wrong, Momij, I meant it more than you could possibly know, he wanted to say as he watched her turn and carry the blanket over to the closet, but he didn't. The obligation he had fashioned for himself choked the words off before he could utter them, and so he remained silent, hating himself for hurting her.

Momiji reached up on tiptoe to push the blanket onto the shelf and heard the scrape of paper against the floor as she felt something sticky cling to the bottom of her foot. She shook her foot, trying to dislodge it and when she couldn't, looked down to see the floor littered with shiny squares spilling from a leather box tipped on its side - the object she must have tripped over last night, she realized.

Photographs she thought as she bent down and peeled off the one clinging tenaciously to her foot. She glanced at it and saw that it was a picture of her and her gaze flitted to the rest of the ones on the floor. They were of her as well. All of them. She crouched down and turned the box upright and began to put them back in the box wondering at the sheer number of them and why they were hidden in a box as if Kusanagi was ashamed of them. She had almost finished putting them away when she came across one that was bent at the edges and slightly wrinkled, as if it had been worn from frequent handling.

It was a picture of her at the park in the rain. She had thought at the time that she was alone and she had gone there that day to feed Puck. It was supposed to have been sunny, but the weathermen had been wrong and Momiji had been caught without an umbrella. But she hadn't let that stop her, knowing that Puck would be waiting for her.

She looked a fright in this picture, her red nose dripping with rain and her stringy hair sticking to her scalp. She had slipped too, and despite the length of her woolen coat, the mud was clearly visibly on her knee and calf as she crouched to feed the breadcrumbs to Puck, who waddled around in front of her quacking nonstop.

Momiji's mouth curved into a gentle smile as she stared down at the little brown duckling. He had been smaller than the rest and an outcast, often picked on by the others. She had spotted him for the first time one day when she and Kusanagi had gone there for lunch and her heart had gone out to him. She had fed him most of her lunch and even tried to feed him part of Kusanagi's, but Kusanagi wouldn't let her. He told her that she wasn't doing the little duckling any favors by feeding him and that he needed to learn to fend for himself. But she hadn't listened to Kusanagi's advice and continued to go to the park just to see the little duckling that she had christened with the name Puck.

He became so accustomed to her that he would often waddle over to her the minute he saw her, quacking loudly at her as if to say he was glad to see her. But he had grown quickly. And soon he wasn't the smallest anymore, and the others had ceased to pick on him. And yet, as long as he was there, he remembered her and greeted her whether she had a treat for him or not.

Then winter had come and he was gone. She never saw him again after that, but she hoped that he had found somewhere in the countryside to live, hating to think that he had met an untimely end under the claws of an animal or the gun sights of a hunter.

Kusanagi had never understood her fascination for the little creature. Or so he had said, but if that was the case, she wondered, then why had he made a point to take a picture of her with Puck. Especially given the fact that she looked so horribly bedraggled. Momiji picked the box up, tucking it under her arm, and stood up, the picture of Puck still clutched between her fingers.

Kusanagi had been watching her back, wondering what she was doing and when he saw the box, the same look of panic she had seen during their intimate embrace flashed in his eyes. He leaped from the bed, like he had been shot from a cannon, and clutching the bed sheet around his waste to hide his embarrassingly still aroused condition, tripped his way over to her.

He snatched the box out of her hands, knowing that even as he did so it was too late. She had already seen his precious horde, and was currently holding his most prized possession between her fingers. He balanced the box on his hip, just barely managing to keep the sheet wrapped around his waist at the same time, and plucked the picture from her fingers, tossing it in the box, a look of disdainful outrage on his face as he turned and went to look for the lid.

Momiji watched him feeling like she had violated his privacy and so she tried to explain, "I – I was just putting the blanket –" she said faintly, pointing her finger at the closet, " – and then, I felt something sticking to my foot and I – I must have knocked them over yesterday when we fell into the closet, because they were all over the floor and I was just trying to put them back. I didn't mean to pry – " she babbled, and when he just shot her a seething look over his shoulder, still looking for the box lid, she fell silent.

He put the lid on the box and put it back in the closet, slammng the door behind him. He turned to face her then, his expression closed and shuttered and she felt his rejection as if he had reached out and physically slapped her. She looked away from him, staring at the ground, her fingers wadding the flannel of her gown in misery. He didn't move, so she turned and made her way to the door, stopping as she reached it.

"You seem to be feeling better," she said stiltedly without turning around, "I'm glad…and I'm – sorry for – everything," her last word was strained as she struggled to keep from bursting into tears in front of him and then she fled without looking back.

Kusanagi let her go, unsure of what to say or do, wanting to comfort her and push her away at the same time. He gritted his teeth in frustration and dropped the sheet from his waist. What he needed was a shower. A long and frigidly _cold_ shower.

He could feel the coolness of the stone beneath him and his grey eyes snapped open in surprise. He felt, he realized. That meant he was awake; alive, leaving behind him the numbness of endless slumber. A slow, hard smile marred his handsome face as he realized what else it meant. It meant that his plan had worked, that traitorous Kaede had failed and he was once again free, one step closer to attaining his rightful place as king of the Aragami. It also meant that there was a child. His child, he thought as he sat up and looked around.

He was in Ise, he idly realized and he had left the girl with violet eyes and pale hair in Takachiho. What was her name? Hotaru? Hirako? No, that wasn't it, he thought unconcernedly as he climbed to his feet. Hikaru. That was it, he thought, the same hard smile crossing his face. He gave a low laugh, triumph coursing through his veins.

"What say you now, Kaede?" he asked mockingly, knowing that she was probably aware of his reawakening. "Your schemes have brought you nothing, while mine have yielded a sweet success. And now, Kaede, the Betrayer, while you slumber endlessly with your _god_," he spat the word, "there will be no one to stop me from establishing my kingdom of the Aragami!"

He threw back his head and laughed, the harsh sound clashing against the stone of the iwatto, echoing loudly. His listened to the sound as he continued to laugh, reveling in the power of its resonance and only stopped when he thought he heard the sound of Kaede's voice. It was the merest trace of a sigh, easily overpowered by the strength of his echoing laughter, but still he heard the words clearly as if they had been spoken in stillness against his ear.

"Your destiny has already been decided, Murakumo. Accept your fate and serve us well."

"What!? The hell you say," he muttered furiously, turning as he heard the sound of something grating against the rock behind him.

He didn't even get a good look at it as he felt long claws slash across his chest, slicing deeply into his flesh. He was thrown back by the blow, the back of his head striking hard rock as he fell to the ground. He heard a guttural roar and looked up to see a creature with slitted red eyes and a black mitama bearing down on him. He rolled away in time to avoid its fangs from sinking into his neck and stumbled to his feet, his chest bleeding heavily.

The creature turned, its powerful front and hind legs moving quickly as it targeted him again and leapt forward. Murakumo couldn't dodge it, and the claws of its front legs bit into his shoulders. The weight of the creature carried him backwards and he was trapped beneath it. He put his hands up, grasping it around the neck as it stretched its face forward trying to sink its teeth into him. Long strings of saliva dripped from its mouth and onto his face, and his arms shook from the effort of trying to hold it off. How ironic to lose his life now, when he had just regained it, he thought as sweat beaded on his forehead, his face contorting into a strained grimace as he felt his grip around the creature's neck slipping.

Midori hummed cheerfully as she got out of the car and headed up to the opening of the iwatto, a small satchel slung over her shoulder. She pushed her blue black hair behind her ears and looked up at the flawless blue sky. What a pity that she had to return to Tokyo today, she thought. She much preferred the beauty of Ise over the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and now that Momiji was gone, the city seemed even bigger and lonelier than ever.

Midori sighed, her joy at being in the sunshine somewhat dimmed by thoughts of returning to Tokyo. She readjusted the satchel and observed that perhaps what she needed was a vacation. She was debating whether or not she should put in for one when noises coming from inside the iwatto drew her attention. She slowed her steps and stopped to listen at the opening to the entrance.

It was the feral cry of an animal she realized. And it sounded big. Midori took a step back, afraid to go in until she heard the strangled shout of a man and realized that he was inside with the animal. Without thinking, she pelted forward down the stone steps of the iwatto, following the sounds of conflict. She stopped when she saw them, a man with long, dark hair pinned under the hunched body of a creature the likes of which she had never seen before. The man had his hands locked around its neck and it strained against his grip, its jaws snapping at him.

It was going to kill him, she realized, if she didn't do something to try and help him. Midori took a step forward and yelled at it. It turned its ugly head in her direction for a split second and then ignored her. She moved forward, taking the satchel from her shoulder and opening it as she went. She fumbled around the inside feeling for the hammer she had brought to help her obtain the rock samples that Ms. Matsudaira had requested. Her fingers found it and she hastily pulled it out, dropping the satchel to the ground.

On shaky legs, she moved directly behind the creature. Her nostrils filled with the stench coming from its slimy body. She braced her legs apart and turned the hammer backwards so the claws faced forward, the hammer becoming a formidable weapon with two, long curving spikes. Holding it with both hands, she raised it above her head and took aim, her stomach twisting sickeningly as she felt the claws make impact, sinking into the back with a horrible squishing sound.

The creature roared in pain and quickly swung around to strike at its new foe. Midori hadn't let go of the hammer though and when the creature turned, she turned with it, her body slung to the side and momentarily out of the path of its lethal claws.

The distraction that she had provided was all that the dark headed man needed. He clambered to his feet as the creature, making a horrible screeching noise, lunged furiously towards Midori. She cowered, shielding her head beneath her arms, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her body quivering in fear. Suddenly the screeching stopped and there was a dull thud.

Midori looked up then and saw the dark headed man standing over the lifeless body of the creature, a long thin blade extending from his forearm.

"You saved my life, human," he said, "and now I have returned the favor."

Midori stared up at him, seeing the green oozing from the slashes in his chest and the blue beads buried in his skin. "You're just like Kusanagi," she said in surprise and then cringed as she found the blade he had used to slay the creature aimed at her own throat.

Before he could use it however, he fell to his knees, his grey eyes becoming unfocused, and he weakly dropped his arm to his side, the blade retracting until there was only the smoothness of his skin.

"Are you all right?" Midori asked, scrambling to his side to grab his arm as he swayed dangerously.

"Don't touch me, human," he murmured contemptuously, as if she reviled him and promptly fell over when she let go of his arm. He landed with a thud, groaned and then lost consciousness altogether.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" she fretfully asked him as her brown eyes slid over the largeness of his inert form. "I can't just leave you here to bleed to death, now can I?"

Kome heaved a bored sigh as she and Yaegashi climbed towards the entrance of the iwatto in Takachiho. How she hated research, she thought with a scowl, sliding a look at her husband. He wore a bland expression, but she could tell by the sparkle in the brown eyes behind his glasses that he was in his element. Kome turned her gaze in front of her and put her hands behind her head, stretching as they walked. At least somebody was having a good time, she thought sardonically as they entered the iwatto. Still, she should be grateful that they hadn't been forced to bring Sakura with them. That would have _really_ reeked. She stopped as they stepped into the dim interior of the iwatto, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom and watched as Yaegashi moved ahead of her, eager to get started with his field analysis.

"Hey, Yoshiki," she said suddenly, "come and take a look at this," she said pointing to the wall near where she stood when he turned his attention to her.

She put her fingers out and touched the wall while Yaegashi backtracked, asking, "What is it?"

"I dunno," she murmured. "It looks like some kind of scorch mark."

Yaegashi stopped next to her, pushed his glasses up and examined the wall. "Hmmm," was all he said. He opened up his kit and took out a vial and an awl and began scraping little pieces of rock from the stone wall into the vial.

"What do you think would cause something like that?" Kome asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kome saw a blurry mass hurtle towards them from the darkness of the passageway and before Yaegashi had a chance to answer her, she had thrown her body into his knocking him over backwards. Kome heard the skitter of claws against the stone floor as whatever it was braked its forward motion and turned to mount another attack.

Kome and Yaegashi skidded backwards for several feet, but before they had come to a stop, Kome was in motion, rolling away from Yaegashi until she was in a kneeling position, her hand going automatically for the firearm she kept holstered at her shoulder. She yanked it out, and with precise aim, she fired several shots, hearing the bullets hit the target, one, two, three times. The animal reeled backwards, its head jerking back as each bullet penetrated it skull, and it fell over, unmoving.

"What the hell was that?" she panted, wild-eyed, her gun still held in the upright position just in case the thing wasn't dead.

Yaegashi slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't know," he replied, "but it sure would be nice to have a little warning before you decide to use me as a surfboard."

"What? – Oh," Kome said, her eyes jerking in Yaegashi's direction, "sorry about that, but there was no time."

She shifted her gaze back to the creature and Yaegashi asked, "Do you think it's dead?"

"I sure as hell hope so," she replied, climbing warily to her feet.

She slowly walked towards the creature, her gun trained unwaveringly on it until she was standing right by it. It was dead all right, the black mitama in the middle of its head shattered by the entry of one of the bullets and its slitted eyes glassy and blank of all expression. Kome holstered her weapon as Yaegashi came to stand next to her.

"You know we probably just made Matsu's day," Kome told him derisively. "She was beside herself with excitement when Kunikida brought her that severed arm to examine. Can you imagine how she'll be when she finds out we're bringing her a whole body?"

Yaegashi snorted and then sniffed the air, waving his hand in front of his face. "Just as long as we don't have to put it in the car. This thing has a disgusting smell," he replied, repulsed.

"Really?" Kome said, her red eyebrows raised over her blue eyes and she made a show of sniffing the air, "smells a lot like Sakura's perfume to me."

"You're wrong about that," Yaegashi said, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looked at her and chuckled, "this actually smells better than Sakura's perfume."

"Yoshiki!" Kome replied, stunned, "you just insulted a co-worker." Her face split into a grin and she playfully threw her arms around her husband and sobbed into his shoulder, "You've made me so proud!"

Momiji left the house before Kusanagi had gotten out of the shower and without telling him where she was going. This morning had been a catastrophe and she couldn't face him, feeling too vulnerable right now. So instead, she left a note on the kitchen counter telling him where she would be. Momiji climbed into her car, put her ceremonial robes alongside the metal case in the passenger seat and drove up to the iwatto.

She tried to silence her thoughts as she entered the itwatto, since they only added to the hard knot of uneasiness and despair sitting in the middle of her chest. She concentrated instead on making her way safely down the stone steps and into the darkness of the main chamber. Momiji turned the solar mirror to catch the sun's light and then began the task of gathering up the samples for Ms. Matsudaira. Once she had them all, she put them back in the case and then turned to put her ceremonial robes on.

It had been a long time since she had done this, she thought as she moved to the water's edge. She stood silent and unmoving, looking at the stillness of the water, trying to let its tranquility influence her emotions. With bare feet she stepped into the icy coldness and waded towards the center, listening to the soft sound of the currents swirling around the motion of her legs.

She came to a standstill, fragments of dappled light dancing across her face, and she closed her eyes against the pain in her heart. Slowly she bent and began the ritual, shutting out everything but the feel of the water against her body. Its iciness filled her body with numbness; a blessed relief from the turbulence of her emotions, and Momiji's mind was liberated. She entered a trancelike state, her arms falling to her sides, her face raised upwards as if held in thrall by some unseen force.

She was falling into darkness, the same darkness as before, the fragmented words of Susano-oh echoing around her.

Kushinada…gift...desire…humanity…destiny…

On and on she fell, the words twisting around her as if to guide her on her spiral downward.

Kushinada… My will… as one…see…humanity…the one…humanity…Kusanagi…destiny…bind him to you…

Her descent was slowing now, an image beginning to form before her. It was that of a child, an infant with dark hair and cat-like eyes and as Momiji stared at it, it changed, becoming Kusanagi. Then there were new words, unfragmented and clear as the image faded.

He comes, Kushinada. Mark well what I have told you. Remember your destiny and hold it close to your heart. Your love shall be the bond that prevails and will lead Kusanagi to find his humanity.

The words rose in volume until they swallowed up the darkness and light flooded back into her mind, her thoughts once again her own. Momiji slowly opened her eyes to find the turmoil of earlier gone. It had been replaced with certainty, she realized in surprise. They were destined to be together, and no matter how hard he fought against it, Kusanagi would tire of the struggle and come to realize it too.

Her mind settled on the image of the child, so much like Kusanagi. _He comes_, Susano-oh had said, and Momiji understood that he wanted her to protect him. She wondered who he was, or whose he was. Her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of something behind her and Momiji looked over her shoulder.

Terror welled up inside her as she stared into the slitted red eyes of an Aragami. Its arm snaked out and grabbed her forehead, holding her head easily within its palm, its long fingers and claws curling around the back of her head as it lifted her off the ground. Momiji tried to scream but the sound was locked in her throat as she felt a resonating sensation burning against her brow and watched as the black mitama centered on the Aragami's forehead began to glow red.

As if from a distance, Momiji heard someone shouting. It was Kusanagi.

"NO!!!!" he cried from the entrance of the iwatto, too far away to stop what was happening as Momiji felt the creature swiftly leeching away her energy, her arms and legs dangling lifelessly above the water.

It was stealing her soul, she suddenly realized. She could feel it in the slowing of her heartbeat and the breathless sensation in her lungs. Only a few more seconds and it would be done, she thought numbly, but suddenly the sensation ceased and the Aragami staggered, dropping her into the water with a loud splash.

"That's right, you bastard!" Kusanagi snarled, "you have sealed your fate by stealing energy from the Kushinada. And now I'm going to kill you!"

Momiji felt her heart, beating ever so slowly, come to a stop in her chest and she slumped over, unable to hold herself up as the creature reeled drunkenly in the water between her and the man she loved. It felt as if her mind was adrift from her body and she was looking down at herself from above, seeing but not feeling Kusanagi's hands grab her up, cradling her against his chest as he swiftly flitted around the Aragami to carry her to safety.

She watched in a detached way as he laid her slack body gently down, his fingers against her cheeks as he tensely called her name over and over, trying to get her to respond. She could hear him, could see him as if from a distance, but she couldn't open her eyes or feel her body.

Momiji watched as Kusanagi left her side, his fury a palpable living thing.

"Now you die!" he raged, his body going through a rapid transformation as a ragged war cry burst from his throat.

The sound of it echoed through her mind, mingling with the sound of the Aragami's high-pitched squeal of confusion and pain and the crashing of water. There was a blur of movement a flash of blue light, and then nothing but silence.

Kusanagi hovered in the air, his hair standing on end, the plant like spines sprouting from his back and shoulders as he gazed at Momiji's body and then stared down at the water darkened by the blood of the Aragami. The Aragami was dead but the fire of bloodlust still burned brightly in Kusanagi's eyes and his chest heaved up and down from the killing rage that engulfed him. It was dead, but he wasn't satisfied. He wanted to crush its body beneath his claws, grind away its bone and sinew until nothing remained of its existence for what it had done to Momiji. Unable to contain his rage, he threw back his head and howled savagely, as pain ripped through his heart.

And then he stopped, hearing another cry rising above his own. It was a cry of pain and it was coming from Momiji. He was by her side in an instant, crouching down and cradling her upper body against him, his hand rhythmically smoothing her hair away from her face.

Kusanagi stared down at Momiji's face. It was unnaturally white and in the center of her forehead was a faint burn mark in the shape of a mitama. Tears leaked from beneath her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks. She whimpered and Kusanagi pulled her tighter against him, rocking her back and forth, his lips pressed against her forehead.

"It hurts," she gulped and felt herself lifted from the ground as her senses began to bend inwards under the pain and she lost consciousness.

Momiji slowly opened her eyes and looked around. It was nighttime and she was at home in her own room, her mother and Kusanagi sitting in chairs side by side by the window. Her mother was asleep, but Kusanagi was awake, his head turned toward the window as he stared moodily out into the night. He must have felt her gaze, for he suddenly turned his head in her direction, the frown on his face disappearing at seeing her eyes open.

Momiji gave him a bright smile as she watched him leave his chair to come and sit on the bed next to her. She would have sat up, but Kusanagi wouldn't let her, putting his hands against her shoulders and gently pushing her back against her pillow.

"Just lie still," he leaned forward and whispered softly.

His lips lightly brushed against her forehead before he leaned back, and his gloved hand came up to gently smooth her chestnut bangs. Momiji felt a warm glow ignite in the region of her heart at Kusanagi's small signs of affection. She sighed in contentment as he continued to stroke her hair, and Momiji let her eyes wander lovingly over him, taking note of his red shirt and faded jeans. He looked wonderful as always, she thought.

She glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning, so how come he looked so perfect? She turned her green eyes back to Kusanagi's face and couldn't help the smile that curled her lips as she enjoyed looking at him.

"What?" he asked, seeing the smile.

"How come you always seem to look so good no matter what time of day it is?" she mumbled shyly.

"I do?" he asked, startled, and then grinned, "of course I do."

"It isn't fair you know," she promptly informed him, poking him in the chest with her finger. "There should be at least one moment of the day that you turn back into a pumpkin."

"Sorry," his lips twisted sardonically, "but this is as orange as I get," he told her in a teasing manner as he wrapped his own fingers around the one poking him in the chest and squeezed it lightly. "How are you feeling, Momiji? He asked looking down at her in intense concern.

Momiji searched her feelings, her eyes sliding to where Kusanagi had entwined his fingers with hers. 'Happy because you're here with me' she wanted to say but said instead. "Thankful." Kusanagi gave her a puzzled look and she elaborated, "I'm thankful that you came to find me when you did, Kusanagi"

. Kusanagi's face shifted into a shuttered expression and she realized it wasn't because he was hiding from her but because he was struggling to contain his anger and frustration. "I didn't save you. The Aragami had already let you go before I got to you, Momiji. I don't think it realized that it was draining its own life away as it tried to steal power from you. I thought that I was too late, that you were gone, but after I killed it, you started moving."

"But you did save me, Kusanagi," she told him with certainty, "by killing the Aragami, you freed my soul."

She remembered the intense pain as her consciousness had been compacted back into her own body and as she stared into the somberness of Kusanagi's cat-like eyes she knew that he was remembering it too.

"We came close to losing you, again Momiji."

"But you didn't Kusanagi," she said reassuringly, trying to erase the sudden bleakness she saw in his eyes. "Kusanagi, I –" she hesitated, her mouth working soundlessly as the words froze in her throat. 'I love you,' she wanted to say, but she was too afraid to say it, too afraid of scaring him away.

"What is it, Princess?" he prompted her and watched mystified as a dull color spread across her face.

Momiji dropped her gaze to her hand lying comfortably in his and mumbled, "Oh nothing, really."

There was a moment of silence, and then Kusanagi said, "Well, it's late Princess, and you need your rest." He tried to withdraw his hand from hers and rise from the bed, but Momiji clung tightly to him.

"No please," she begged, tugging on his arm, "please stay here with me." She scooted over to make a place for him and her meaning was unmistakable.

Kusanagi gaped at her and didn't move.

"I don't bite, you know," she told him, her green eyes entreating him to give in to her.

Kusanagi looked uncomfortably over at her mother who was still asleep and then his gaze returned to her. "Momiji, I don't think that's such a good idea." He knew that she had no ulterior motive, that she wasn't expecting a repeat performance of this morning. But still he couldn't keep his body from involuntarily tightening as his thoughts lingered on what had happened when he had made the mistake of sleeping with her.

"Please, Kusanagi," she pleaded again, her limpid green eyes imploring him, "I feel safer when you're with me." It was true, she did feel safer, but that wasn't the reason she wanted him to stay. The real reason was that she just wanted to feel close to him. Kusanagi glanced over at her mother one more time, and she could see him wavering. "You don't even have to get under the covers," she told him, "there's an extra blanket in the closet that you can use."

Kusanagi stared down at her and found it impossible to refuse her. "All right," he said, and went and got the blanket.

He stretched out on his side next to her, every nerve and fiber of his being aware of her warmth and femininity. Momiji gave him a sweet and innocent smile and he returned it with a strained one. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and told her, "Now go to sleep."

Momiji obediently closed her eyes, but she inched towards him under the sheets until her head was snuggled against his chest. He felt the warmth of her cheek over his heart and Kusanagi grimaced, groaning inwardly.

It was going to be one hell of a long night.


	12. 11: Plotting Revenge

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Lord Akumakai," Tamanasu bent low before his lord and kept his red-slitted eyes upon the ground where his lord's withered body joined with the earth and became one.

Akumakai's limbs stretched limitlessly within the darkness to feed upon the feeble energy of the trapped souls that wandered the endless Road of Death. If their plan succeeded, Tamanasu thought, then Lord Akumakai would be liberated from this accursed place, his body whole once more; his nourishment the shining brightness of the humans in the Over World that Tamanasu himself had tasted. They had given him strength as he knew they would strengthen his lord.

"Tamanasu," rasped the eternal voice of Akumakai as he looked at the obeisant pose of his most devoted servant. "We see that your limb has regained much of the strength that was lost when it was severed. We are glad."

"Yes, my lord," Tamanasu replied, raising his head, but staying low to the ground, his sharp horns curving around to touch his back. "I am ready to serve you once more in the Over World."

"We are pleased, Tamanasu, that you are so eager to fulfill your duty to us," Akumakai hissed, his four eyes staring steadily at Tamanasu. "But what of the other Tengugaki that were sent in your stead. Do they not await the coming of the one who will make us whole?"

Tamanasu looked away from Akumakai. He bent so low that his forehead touched the ground, and he closed his slitted eyes in anger and shame.

"They do not. I have failed you, my lord. Those I had chosen have all been slain, still too weak to fight the humans."

"We had expected as much," Akumakai hissed after a moment of silence.

"My lord," Tamanasu looked up, wishing to offer some recompense for his failure, "there is another besides the child – a man who could bring us the evolution that we so desire – "

"No, Tamanasu," Akumakai interrupted without letting him finish, "we know of whom you speak. He is called Kusanagi, servant of the Aragami. We have heard his name whispered by the gods. His body carries the souls of the Aragami, becoming more than human. He is a hybrid of sorts, but he unsuitable for our purposes."

"But, my lord, if he is a hybrid," Tamanasu persisted fervently, "then your freedom is assured!"

"No, Tamanasu, he is not suitable," Akumakai rasped, the three black mitamas on his chest glowing bright red, "Kusanagi was born a human and made a servant. His body has been changed, but his soul is still that of a human. We must have the blood of the child, for he is neither human nor Aragami. In his veins the two races mingle, assuring our ascension to greatness. The child must be ours."

"Yes, my lord. I understand."

Akumakai was silent. The thirst for vengeance within Tamanasu was strong and he must be warned of the consequences that such an action would bring without the blood of the child.

"Even if we allowed you to kill Kusanagi," Akumakai hissed, "we would weaken our position, Tamanasu. As long as we seek the freedom to venture into the Over World that the Aragami souls have given us, we are vulnerable to the Kushinada. Kusanagi is the Kushinada's guardian and protector. He will not let the humans sacrifice her, and her safety ensures our continued freedom to rise into the Over World. Once we have the blood of the child, Tamanasu, then you may take your vengeance upon Kusanagi, for our evolution will be complete and we will no longer be tied to the life of the Kushinada. But you must contain your impatience until then."

"Yes, my lord," Tamanasu acquiesced, "I will wait until we have the child and then I will seek my vengeance. I will return to the Over World myself, my lord and bring the child back to you. Your freedom is but a matter of time. I swear that I will not fail you!"

Akumakai watched his servant go, the glow of hunger burning brightly in his mitamas. Soon there would be limitless energy to feed his hungry soul. He might never regain life, but he would drink his fill from the lives of those in the Over World.

Momiji opened her eyes, images of Susano-oh still fresh in her mind. She had been dreaming about him again. It had been four nights since she had been attacked and this was the third night in a row that she had dreamed of him, each dream virtually the same.

Momiji was suspended in blindingly thick, luminescent fog, a protective shroud of white, where light and energy soothed her wounded soul. It restored to her, her strength of life as it penetrated her mind and body, and by her side was Susano-oh. He stood quietly; unmoving, unspeaking, gazing at her, watching over her with his solemn eyes.

Momiji knew that it was his aura that enshrouded her, and standing within its pure, shimmering essence, Momiji began to understand why her sister loved him and had followed him unquestioningly. He had saved her life now, more times than she could count, and she wished nothing more than to serve him the way that Kaede had when he had taken the form of a mortal. She knew he sensed her feelings as her soul communed with his during this time of healing just as she felt his pain for her, knowing that he would spare her the burden he had charged her with if he could. But he could not spare her, and right before she slipped out of her dreams into consciousness, he would speak to her, the same words every time: _The journey of the child of the moon is almost complete. It is a sign of his coming. You must be prepared, Kushinada._

Prepared.

The word echoed like a warning in her mind, and yet she didn't know how she was to do as he asked. How was she to prepare? What was she supposed to do? She wished she knew.

But despite not knowing what she was supposed to do, she had wanted to do _something_; anything, his continual presence in her mind spurring her on.

Unfortunately, for the first few days after her attack, she had been confined to bed by Ms. Matsudaira. So there had been little that she could do to obey Lord Susano-h's command. Her restriction had lasted only three days. Not much time, really, but for Momiji, it seemed like an eternity. As early as the first day, she had thought that she would go insane for the tension that was building inside her. She knew that something important was about to happen, and she had been charged with the task of preparing for it, but couldn't.

But today that ended. Today she was allowed to get up, she thought, relieved, and perhaps, she would find a way to prepare for "his" coming, whomever "he" was.

Momiji stretched and sat up, twisting her head to look at her clock. It was just after seven now, she observed as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. That meant that she had a little over an hour before she had to leave to keep her appointment with Matsu before the big TAC meeting. Just enough time for a shower and a cup of tea she thought as she pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed.

"Good morning, Princess," Kusanagi greeted her, looking up from the morning paper as she came into the kitchen, his tea paused half-way to his lips.

Momiji gave him a smile, glad to see him.

"Good morning," she replied with quiet cheerfulness.

"You seem to be awfully happy about something this morning," he commented dryly.

"Well, you would be happy too, if you had done nothing but lay in bed for three days and then were suddenly free," she replied.

"Hmmm, yes, I see what you mean," he replied vaguely, his eyes sliding over her. The burn mark on her forehead was virtually gone he was relieved to see.

He looked his fill of her for a few seconds longer before he made himself turn away. It had been hell trying to stay away from her these last few days, but Ms. Matsudaira had seemed to think it was better for her to be left undisturbed, with only her mother to keep an eye on her to help speed up her recovery. Save for one brief outing to make a special purchase, he had done nothing but moon around his room during that time, brooding about her and fighting a fierce battle to keep himself from violating Ms. Matsudaira's orders.

It was good to see her up again, and Kusanagi couldn't keep his eyes from sliding hungrily back to her as she walked over to the counter to get an empty cup. Did she look a little pale, or was it his imagination? He wondered if she was feeling all right and opened his mouth to ask her when she tripped over her own feet. She made a funny choking sound, her green eyes popping open in dismay as she windmilled her arms to keep from falling flat on her face. He was ready to spring from his chair to help her when she quickly regained her balance. Her expression was sheepish and her cheeks were stained bright crimson as she looked around to see if he had noticed her clumsiness. He quickly turned away, and pretended that he hadn't seen, a small smile tipping the corners of his mouth.

Yep, she was back to normal, he thought. Time to put his little plan into action, then. Kusanagi shot her a furtive look while he sat, staring down at his paper, not really seeing the print in front of him as he laid his revenge plan out in his mind.

Momiji busied herself with pouring her tea, her eyes straying to Kusanagi who seemed intensely immersed in his paper. She had missed him these last three days, she thought with a small sigh. Quite ridiculous really, considering that they were living in the same house. But after that first night when she had begged him to stay with her, he had made himself virtually invisible.

Despite any number of logical reasons for his absence, Momiji still hadn't been able to stifle the wistful thought that he might have spent at least a little time with her. The only time she saw him though was in the morning when he brought her mother a cup of tea, and then again in the evenings, when he came to tell her mother that dinner was ready. Even then, he hadn't even given her more than a cursory glance before he was gone again.

Moe hadn't seemed to notice Kusanagi's avoidance, or if she had, she didn't say anything about it. But then again, Moe hadn't taken notice of anything for the last four days except for her daughter. It was just like when Momiji had had her accident, only much worse, as the anxiety of almost losing her daughter again provoked an extreme instinct in Moe to protect her only living child.

She had stayed with Momiji continuously, wearing herself down with stress and fatigue, and Momiji had watched her mother wilt under the strain of constantly supervising her even though Momiji privately felt that she didn't need to be supervised. But no matter how much she had wished otherwise, Moe could not hold up under the stress indefinitely. It had begun to take its toll, as Momiji knew it would, becoming visible in the dark circles under Moe's eyes and the deep lines carved around her mouth and forehead. Momiji hadn't said anything, knowing how important it was to her mother to do this for her, and Kusanagi too, had held his silence despite the concerned frowns Momiji saw him give her mother on his brief visits to Momiji's room.

But neither of them could stand by and remain silent when her mother had fallen asleep last night while eating dinner. They had both insisted that she go home, then. Moe had emphatically declared that she was fine, but neither Kusanagi nor Momiji would yield and she had finally been forced to capitulate on the condition that they would call her if Momiji needed her.

Momiji was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of a whine. Still standing by the counter, she looked over her shoulder and saw that Kebooru had come into the kitchen and was sitting close to Kusanagi's chair, a look of utter adoration on her little, flat face.

"Poor, girl," Momiji murmured turning around, "I bet you want to go outside, don't you?"

"I've already taken her out," came Kusanagi's absent-minded response.

Momiji watched, her mouth open slightly as Kusanagi, without looking up from his paper, reached down and scratched Kebooru behind the ears and her whines subsided at his attention. Kebooru's tail thumped wildly against the floor and she put out a soft pink tongue and licked Kusanagi's wrist above the gloved hand that gently stroked her head.

"I think she's become attached to you, Kusanagi," Momiji observed, and then, "I didn't know you liked animals."

"Kebooru's not too picky about the company she keeps," he replied with a shrug, still looking at his paper, "and why would you think that I don't like animals?" He asked, looking around at her with his cat-like eyes then, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Well, I - I don't know," Momiji replied lamely, "you just never seemed to take much interest in them."

Kusanagi didn't say anything but his eyebrow soared even higher. "Just because I don't own one doesn't mean that I don't like them. Animals are usually easier to please than people," he told her dismissively, turning back to his paper, "give them a little food and water, a warm place to sleep and they're happy. They don't ask you annoying questions, they won't pester you constantly if you get sick, and if they get angry and decide to attack, you at least get a little bit of warning, not like – OWW-UH!" he cried, his head jerked forward as he felt Momiji's palm connect solidly with the back of his head. He turned his head and pointed a long finger at Keborru, "See," he declared triumphantly as Momiji made his point for him, " You would never see Kebooru do something like that."

"Well perhaps you haven't pushed the right buttons. Provoke her enough and she just might," Momiji muttered through clenched teeth, bright sparks shooting from her eyes.

Kusanagi's gaze slid from Momiji back to the puppy and he pretended to give the puppy a considering look before shaking his head.

"Nope," he replied with certainty, "I seem to only get that kind of reaction from bony-legged vir – OWW-UH!" he cried again, a ghost of an exasperated chuckle in his voice as he rubbed the back of his head. "Will you stop that!?"

"That's what you get for insulting your host, Mamoru Kusanagi!" Momiji retorted hotly, her face squinched into a pout, "and my legs are NOT BONY!"

"Okay, okay," he replied throwing up his hands, "even if they are on the skinny side, your legs aren't bony – NO!" he said, laughing and suddenly pushing his chair back and clambering to his feet to avoid the swing of her hand. He put some distance between them as she bore down on him with a murderous glint in her eye.

"Can't you be nice for once?" she hissed at him.

"What!?" he said in mock confusion, "I thought I was being nice –" he jumped out of the way as she took another swing at him.

He caught her from behind with a soft laugh, pinning her arms to her sides by wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her against his chest. The minute her body touched his, he closed his eyes, relishing her warmth and fighting against the desire to turn her around so that he could hold her the way he wanted to.

All the fight went out of Momiji the minute that she was in his arms. A fire exploded inside her chest its warmth spreading into her neck and face. Her brain ceased to function as she lived in the moment, feeling only the strength that flowed through him and surrounded her. She leaned weakly into him, and he seemed to sense the sudden weakness, concern clearly evident in his voice when he spoke to her.

"You are feeling better aren't you Momiji?" he murmured softly against her ear, his arms tightening protectively around her, his breath falling against her neck.

Momiji swallowed hard before she could reply. "Yes. I'm fine," she told him, her voice coming out a little breathlessly but sounding normal for the most part.

"Good!" he replied blithely and suddenly let her go, leaving her feeling oddly deflated as he went back over to the table and sat down in front of his tea and paper.

Momiji looked at her watch. She needed to leave now if she was to keep her appointment with Matsu before the TAC meeting.

"Are you coming to the meeting?" Momiji asked him.

Kusanagi glanced at the clock and then back at his paper, "I'll be there."

Momiji didn't say anything for a minute, biting her lip. "Did you want to go with me?" she asked timidly.

There was a slight hesitation before he answered, almost as if he wanted to say yes, but changed his mind at the last moment.

"No thanks, Princess," he finally replied off-handedly, "I have a few things I need to take care of before I leave here – but thanks for the offer though."

Momiji stood there a moment longer, her eyes lingering on the back of his head, before she finally left. Kusanagi stayed in his chair until he heard her close the front door and then he dropped his casual pose altogether. He was out of his chair in a flash and into the living room, looking surreptitiously through the blinds, watching Momiji's car pull away from the house. The blinds made a soft clink as he let them fall back into place, and his mouth tweaked into a smile that would have given Momiji a suspicious fit if she had been there to see it.

Kusanagi vaulted up the stairs and into Momiji's room. He crossed the room with purposeful strides stopping in front of her chest of drawers. Without hesitating he began opening the drawers, carefully rifling through the contents of each one. He looked down at the meager contents in his hand.

"Only three??" he murmured in disbelief. "_Phffft_," he snorted, "there's got to be more than this."

With a frown, he closed the last drawer and turned around to survey her room. His eyes moved from the bed to the closet to the chair. Where would she keep them, he thought, and then his mouth curved into a satisfied smile as his eyes came to a rest on her dresser.

Bingo! He thought as he pulled open the first drawer and found what he was looking for. He quickly emptied the contents of the first drawer, marveling at the enormous quantity of cute and fuzzy animals. He checked the other drawers to make sure that he had everything, carefully going through the nightgowns, camisoles and nylons making sure that he hadn't missed anything when the flash of something red and white stuck in the back at the very bottom caught his attention. He reached down and pulled it out, noticing a big red heart that had words written under it.

I love you Mr. Kusanangi.

Where the heck did she get these things?? His eyes widened and his face reddened a little when he realized what it said. Then he smiled roguishly to himself, tucking the flimsy bit of fabric in his back pocket to keep them separate from the others. Oh, yes, he thought, he could definitely use these to his advantage. Maybe not right now, but he felt sure that their time and place would come.

Nudging the drawer shut with his hip, his arms full of confiscated bounty, he left her room and climbed back downstairs, reaching the bottom just as someone knocked on the front door. It was that girl, Akiko, Kusanagi saw through the blinds with dismay.

Akiko was about to knock again when the door cracked open and two cat-like eyes peered warily at her from behind the barrier of the door. Was this Kusanagi, then, Akiko wondered and she watched him curiously. He had his body hidden behind the door, but she could tell from the position of his head and shoulders that he was struggling to keep from dropping something he was carrying.

"Hello," Akiko smiled brightly, her eyes flitting from his face to his shoulders and back to his face again, trying not to look too nosy. "I'm Akiko."

"Ummm, yes, I know," he replied, his voice sounding tense and just a tad unwelcoming to her ears. "Momiji's not here right now," he told her abruptly and could have bitten his tongue out at her abashed expression. "I – I'm Kusanagi, he told her with a note of apology. "I'm staying with Momiji for a while – but like I said, she's not here right now, though she should be back shortly, if you want to come back…" he let his voice trail of suggestively, a look of hope on his face that she would take the hint.

Akiko just gave him a lost look, as if she wasn't certain what she should do at this point. She looked back over her shoulder at the car that still had its engine running and then focused her brown eyes back on Kusanagi.

"Well, I really only stopped by to get Kebooru," she explained, biting her lip, "and normally I wouldn't mind coming back later, but you see," she looked back over her shoulder again and pointed to the car, "that's my mom's car and she's taking me home because my doctor still won't let me drive for about another week, so – I was hoping that I could take her with me now, otherwise – "

Kusanagi looked desperately uncomfortable but nodded his head in understanding. He pulled the door open wider to let her in, still standing behind it as she came through, her eyes pinned to him in a curious manner.

Once she was inside, Akiko asked, "Is she in the kitchen?"

"Who?" Kusanagi asked in a distracted way looking down at his chest, still behind the door.

Akiko's eyebrow shot up at that. "Kebooru."

"Oh, well," Kusanagi finally looked back up at her and hedged, "I'm not really sure."

"D-do you mind if I go and look?"

And when Kusanagi shook his head, Akiko just gave him another strange look and went into the kitchen, leaving Kusanagi standing in his sentry position by the door, sweating bullets.

She came back without the little puppy and said, "She's not in there."

Kusanagi mentally groaned but replied, "No? She was in there this morning," he responded, knowing he sounded like an idiot.

Akiko walked slowly back over to him. "Don't you think you should close the door, now?" she finally asked, pointing to his last line of defense.

"Wh-what? Wh-why?" he asked panic-stricken.

"You're letting all the warm air out and all the cold air in," she replied matter-of-factly, and then, "Besides that, I was hoping you could help me find Kebooru, and if you leave the door open, she might get out while we're looking for her."

Kusanagi looked like he wanted to refuse, but he didn't. Instead, with a look of dread, he toed the door and it swung on its hinges, shutting with a soft click, and leaving him fully exposed to view. Akiko's eyes swept from Kusanagi's red face, down to the rather huge bundle of panties clutched against his chest and she resisted the urge to smile.

"Those look like they'll be sort of a tight fit for you, don't you think?" she commented and watched his face go even redder.

"It isn't what you think," he hastily replied, with a grimace.

Akiko smiled conspiratorially at him. " What I think is that you've got Momiji's underwear and you're planning to do something with them other than launder them or wear them, since you don't look like the kind of guy who goes around wearing women's underwear, or at least women's underwear with little duckies on them," Akiko replied with a chuckle.

Kusanagi was silent for a fraction of a heartbeat. "Okay. So this is what it looks like."

"You know, Momiji told me that you were the one that brought me to the hospital. I never did get the opportunity to thank you for saving my life, Kusanagi," Akiko said swinging away from him on the pretext of looking for Kebooru whom they both knew wasn't anywhere in the room. "I'll just go upstairs and check Momiji's room, and maybe when you get done with – " she waved her hand vaguely in his direction, " - whatever it is you're doing, you could check the rest of the rooms upstairs for me."

Without waiting for his reply, she turned on her heel and quietly ascended the stairs, Kusanagi watching her go, feeling thoroughly humiliated and relieved that she hadn't pressed for an explanation. Pushing his turbulent feelings aside, he completed his mission and then went upstairs, finding Kebooru curled up in the middle of his bed, sound asleep.

Kusanagi scooped her up and took her to Akiko. The little dog squirmed madly when she saw Akiko, her curly tail thumping wildly against Kusanagi's chest as she strained against him to greet her mistress.

"Tell Momiji that I said thank you for taking care of Kebooru for me," Akiko told him as she got ready to leave, and then added as an afterthought,, "you know, Momiji has another pair that you might not know about. She's had them for a long time and she keeps them hidden in a separate drawer from the rest," she paused in the doorway to look back over her shoulder at him before she passed through.

"Oh really?" Kusanagi replied noncommittally.

"Just be sure that if you find them to remember that they are a memento to her of a time long past," Akiko told him gravely, "and be careful how you use them."

Kusanagi stared steadily into Akiko's brown eyes and asked, "Why did she never wear them?"

Akiko looked away from him then, stepping through the door. "She did, but you were just too blinded by Kaede to see," she murmured. "But maybe this time, it will be different," she briefly speculated and then she was gone.

She turned and waved before she climbed into the car and Kusanagi waved back.

"This time it is different," Kusanagi said softly, "for her as well as for me."

Matsu sat back and gave Momiji a pleased but perplexed look. "I don't understand it, but your health seems to be blooming."

"After all that bed rest you prescribed, it's no wonder," Momiji replied with a sparkle.

"Well, yes, even taking that into consideration, it is still amazing, Momiji," Matsu said and then hastily added, "not that I'm not glad that you're feeling better, but your body has gone through a traumatic ordeal, bordering on a total collapse of the autonomic nervous system. That's not something that you just get over in a couple of days. I can't explain it, but it's almost like it never happened at all."

Momiji looked down at her hands and didn't say anything. If she had cared to, she could have enlightened Matsu as to the reason for her complete recovery. But Momiji was afraid to say anything, fearing that the TAC would consider Susano-oh as their most likely suspect in light of the most recent attacks.

"I think we might even remove your cast today," Matsu told Momiji and watched Momiji's head shoot up to look at Matsu, fidgeting in her chair with excitement.

"Oh, yes, please!" Momiji cried, more than ready to have both hands again.

"It might make us a few minutes late for the meeting that Mr. Kunikida scheduled for this morning," Matus deliberated, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, "but they're not likely to start without me, since they need my data. Otherwise it won't be much of a meeting."

"Does that mean that we can do it?" Momiji wanted to know eagerly.

Matsu grinned in response. "Let's do it!"

"Kusanagi!"

Sugishita greeted him he entered the small conference room. He gave Kusanagi a hearty slap on the back that earned him a black look. Sugishita hastily dropped his hand to his side and grinned sheepishly.

Almost everyone was here, Kusanagi noted, seated around a rectangular table situated in the middle of the room. Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida sat together their heads bent close as they talked softly to each other. Kome and Yaegashi were here too. Kome was leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest and her feet propped up on the table, a zoned out look of boredom on her face. Yaegashi sat next to her, leaning forward in his seat, his eyes pinned to the computer screen sitting on the table in front of him.

And then there was Sakura, the only one, besides Sugishita and himself, who was not seated at the table. She was standing by the window, dressed in considerably warmer apparel than usual, Kusanagi noted in surprise. She was wearing a tight fitting jade-green sweater and Kusanagi was amazed to see that she was actually wearing pants for a change. He hadn't thought that the girl owned anything that came below her upper thigh, although, the pants did have Sakura's signature style written all over them. They were so snug had they been buff colored she might have been arrested for indecent exposure. Her crimson eyes focused on him for a brief second as he let his gaze sweep over her and he watched as she flipped her nose up in the air, turning her attention back to window finding the view more interesting than the sight of him.

"Hey, Kusanagi," Sugishita addressed him again, this time in a loud whisper and Kusanagi focused his attention back on the sandy-haired man standing next to him.

Seeing that he had Kusanagi's full attention, Sugishita cleared his throat and said, "I heard through the grapevine that you and Momiji broke up, that you left her high and dry in

Tokyo and that's why she moved here. Is it true?"

Kusanagi's face wore an arrested expression and he didn't say anything for a minute. "Who told you that?"

"We-e-ll," Sugishita temporized and didn't say who, but Kusanagi followed his gaze as his eyes darted over to where Sakura was standing by the window and Kusanagi scowled. "I can't really tell you, but I have it on good authority that before she left Tokyo, Momiji said that she didn't think you were interested in her anymore. If that's true, then you won't mind if I make a move on her, will you? She's quite a cutie, you know. Might even be the one that finally gets me to settle down," he gave a little laugh at that thought and then said, " So, is it true, then? Are you and she really finished"

This was his chance to finally let her go. All he had to do was say yes. Say yes and let a normal guy have a chance at making Momiji happy, Kusanagi thought, and although, Sugishita wasn't all that normal, it was still a start.

"Momiji belongs to me," Kusanagi heard himself say in an uncompromising way, "and no, we're not finished." He shot Sugishita a steely look making sure that what he said had registered in Sugi's fickle head.

Sugi did look a little disappointed but far from crushed. "Well, I didn't think so," he said with a regretful sigh, "but still, it never hurts to check, does it?" He gave Kusanagi one last grin and left him standing there, crossing to join Sakura by the window in order to try and flirt with her.

Kusanagi watched him go, his face hiding his true feelings as his own words caused strong conflict within him. He wanted her. She belonged to him. But could he allow himself to have her, or was he still obligated to stay away? He still couldn't decide, but he knew that he wanted her to be happy, knew that she deserved to be happy more than anyone else he knew.

Momiji was a creature that thrived on emotion, her beauty shining most brightly when she expressed and received affection and he was hopelessly incompetent when it came to showing and receiving affection, a direct result of his emotionally deprived life. Could he give her what she needed to make her happy?

All his life he had been little more than a tool, a means to an end for the Aragami. By the time he had met Momiji, he had forgotten what affection was, love and gentleness having forsaken him when his parents had been slaughtered when he was just a child. From an unnaturally early age, he had learned only obedience, the cold will of the Aragami as his teacher. And as he grew, watching Kaede from afar, seeing her happiness and gentleness, he had learned not of affection but of longing, all happier emotions still foreign to him but fascinating to him all the same.

As he had grown, Kusanagi had observed the sweetness of life in and around Kaede, and she became his focus, his reason for living. She had been his ideal. He had seen in her all the things he had been denied and she became all the things he wanted, but couldn't have.

Had he loved her? He had thought so, even though he was incapable of expressing it. For the longest time, he had believed it to be true, as he watched her from afar, and his world had shattered into a thousand pieces when he had thought she had been murdered. After her death, he had finally found expression for his lost love through emotions that were familiar to him: hatred and anger, and from that moment on, he had sought revenge against the Aragami for again taking away the most precious thing in his life.

Kusanagi had been too young when his parents had been killed to fight against his new Aragami masters, and as a boy, he hadn't fully understood the true intentions of the Aragami. Kaede was the closest thing he had had to a family growing up, and he had been content to be left alone so he could watch the dark headed girl whose laughter called to his heart and whose eyes shone brightly full of hopes and dreams.

He had grown up alone, always on the outside looking in, but he hadn't cared. As long as he could watch Kaede and protect her and her dreams, that was all that had mattered to him. He had never even considered any other life for himself, despite his heart being filled with hunger and longing as he was constant witness to Kaede's life. And although he knew she was aware of his presence, he had never dared approach her. He had been almost afraid that if he reached out to touch her, she would shimmer like an image on still water that has been suddenly disturbed and would disappear altogether.

But then she had disappeared anyway, despite his efforts to keep her safe; taken away by those who had sent him to protect her. His heart had twisted with bitterness and resentment at her death and he had finally rebelled, wanting to destroy the Aragami's world the way they had destroyed his.

From that moment on, he had decided that he would serve no one but himself and he had begun a journey that had ended in Izumo with Momiji; the means by which he could take his revenge, not just for Kaede's death, but the death of his parents and his chances of a normal, happy life.

He could never regain any of the things he had lost. He had realized that even as he had stalked Momiji but he didn't care, thinking that perhaps gaining his freedom would help to fill the emptiness in his soul.

And so began his short struggle to take the life of the other Kushinada, the girl whose sister he had dreamed about and idealized. He had followed Momiji for several days before he closed in to finish her, telling himself that she was nothing to him, just a mere slip of a girl who had more hair than brains. And yet he could not do it, seeing in her, a glimmer of Kaede.

His attempts had been further complicated by the fact that the Aragami had used him yet again. This time to track Momiji down so they might destroy her themselves and Kusanagi found himself unable to break the cycle of protecting the Kushinada that had been initiated by the Aragami so many years before. But it was during his battle with Orochi, that Kusanagi had begun to understand that his life was not exactly the same as before. All because of her; one slip of a girl with more hair than brains.

During the battle with Orochi, Momiji had done something he had never expected. She had unflinchingly sacrificed herself out of concern to save him; the blow Orochi had meant to slay Kusanagi, instead piercing her heart. It was the ultimate act of love and kindness rendered for his sake, a man who had never personally experienced kindness, a man who was no more than a stranger to her.

It had confounded him, confused him and enraged him at the same time. He was left reeling, grappling to understand what had happened and to understand the foreign emotions that her action had stirred within his heart. But he knew that no matter what, he would protect her, the only person who had ever reached out to him, giving of herself without expecting anything in return.

He had begun his vigil of watching over her, the same as he had with Kaede, but with Momiji, he found the boundaries separating their existences blurred and he was no longer on the outside looking in. The isolation and loneliness that had been magnified by the boundary that separated him from Kaede wavered and disappeared like an image shimmering on the broken surface of still water when he was with Momiji. Kaede was shimmering light, ethereal in nature; a dream that could not be held, but Momiji was vibrant radiance, warm and tangible; a promise of what could be.

Kusanagi was no longer human, but she made him feel human. He had so little to offer her, and yet she was everything he wanted. So the question remained: could he learn to show her the affection he felt or was he going to let his old obligation to stay away from her rule his life? Could he make her happy? Was he going to risk trying?

He was going to have to make a decision, he realized, looking at Sugishita. If she truly belonged to him, then he was going to have to learn to show her and relinquish his old obligation or else relinquish his claim to her and learn to live without her. He didn't want to live without her, but all he had known his whole life was obligation and it wasn't so easy to dismiss it. He was still agonizing over it when he heard two female voices in the hall just beyond the door and turned to see Momiji and Matsu entering the room.


	13. 12: Troubled Waters Rising

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Momiji!"

To Kusinagi's ears, it sounded like the whole room spoke in unison when everyone saw her standing next to Ms. Matsudaira. There was the loud sound of chairs scraping against linoleum as Mr. Kunikida, Ryoko, Kome, Yaegashi and Sugishita made a mad dash in her direction. Only Sakura and Kusanagi hung back, Sakura because she didn't see what the big deal was, and Kusanagi because it was just too many people for him.

Momiji's eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back as they approached her, although her smile widened at their friendly faces.

"Hi, everybody!" she chirped, and then her green eyes slid past them to find Kusanagi. "Look!" she grinned happily waving her arm at him, "I finally got my arm back!"

"Well that's one less weapon for me to have to worry about," he mouthed sardonically, crossing his arms and ignoring the puzzled expressions of everyone else, his attention focused on Momiji's disconcerted look and then her giggle.

"Don't worry," she told him, waving her hand in his direction, "I'm sure that I'll come up with something just as effective."

"Well, I'm hoping that you'll prove less resourceful as long I keep you out of kitchen when you decide to launch an assault!" he muttered under his breath to himself.

"What was that? She asked, putting her hand to her ear, and giving him an inquiring look.

He looked away from her then and pushed away from the wall to stroll restlessly towards the empty table. "Nothing," he replied dismissively.

"Momiji," Mr. Kunikida finally broke in, "how are you feeling? You look marvelous!"

Everyone murmured their agreement, and Momiji looked away from Kusanagi to the faces of the circle of friends surrounding her.

"I am feeling better," she confirmed, her teeth flashing brightly as she grinned happily.

"Hey, people," Sakura called peevishly from the window, "let's not forget why we're here. I don't know about you guys, but I have better things to do with my day than sit here and marvel at Momiji's amazing comeback!"

Sakura's crimson eyes burned resentfully, as she looked at Momiji. Why was it that Momiji always managed to steal the spotlight? Well, not today, Sakura thought determinedly. If she wasn't going to shine, then neither was Momiji.

"Sakura's right," Mr. Kunikida said, clearing his throat gravely, "we have quite a few important things to discuss today. And now that everyone is here, it's time we get down to business."

Everyone shuffled quietly to the table and Momiji made sure that she slid into the seat next to Kusanagi's, her hands folded on top of the table as she waited for the meeting to start.

"As you all are aware, we have discovered the existence of what appears to be a new race of Aragami," Mr. Kunikida began as he went around the table and put a manila folder in front of each person before taking a seat at the top of the table. "Ms. Mastusdaira has compiled some general information that she was able to learn from studying the Aragami, and we have added that information to what we already know.

"So far, we have been able to determine that each of these creatures have at least one black mitama, maybe more. They are carnivorous to a certain degree, have the ability to restructure their physical shape, travel underground to hide their tracks and they prefer the dark, although have been known to attack during the daylight hours.

"The two full Aragami bodies that were recovered in the iwattos had similar characteristics such as the black mitamas, red, cat-like eyes, and the color and texture of their skins. Their physical appearance however, greatly differed in the size of their bodies, their facial structure and their skeletal structure to a certain extent, but this could be due to the fact that they can alter their appearance.

So far, we have been able to confirm fifteen attacks and three more possible deaths, although the last three haven't been confirmed.

"The first attacks began four weeks ago in Hokkaido and then moved to Wakasa. Twelve attacks in all, in those two areas that yielded no survivors.

"The cause of the fatalities is known to a certain extent," Kunikida paused and opened his folder, and everyone else followed suit, including Momiji.

She stared down at the pictures and her stomach twisted inside her.

"As you can see," Kunikida went on to say, "from the first few pictures, the cause of death, it quite obvious; loss of blood and severe tissue and organ damage. But in the last pictures," here he paused again and shuffled the pictures and everyone else did the same, "the cause of death is less certain. Note the odd pallor of the skin and hair," Kunikida observed, "and the texture of the skin.

"Ms. Matsudaira has concluded that there has been a cellular breakdown on the most basic level, like the cells' energy has been tapped and drained. We have been unable to verify how the new Aragami accomplish this, but believe it has something to do with the their black mitamas, since each victim has a burn mark on their forehead as a distinct point of contact . The two Aragami monsters that we recovered here in Izumo and Takachiho both had a black mitama buried in roughly what would be considered their left palm beneath several folds of skin that act as a flap to protect it.-"

Momiji reached up and touched her own forehead, remembering the burning sensation she had felt and the glowing mitama on the monster's forehead as it drained away her energy.

"Momiji? Are you feeling all right?" Mr. Kunikida broke off what he was saying, looking at her suddenly white face in concern.

Momiji looked up at him, her emerald eyes standing out against the whiteness of her cheeks. "It feeds their souls," she said.

"What does?" Mr. Kunikida asked.

"We do."

No one said anything for a moment, but all eyes turned in her direction as she tried to explain what she meant.

"When it touched me," she began, clenching her fingers together to keep them from trembling, "I could feel its hunger. It wasn't hungry for food. It was hungry for energy, like its soul only had a limited supply and to support itself it was feeding off of my soul."

"Old and new souls together," Sakura broke in at this point, her crimson eyes focused briefly on Momiji and then she glanced around the table. "What Momiji says would explain why I felt old and new souls mingling together in Wakasa. Whatever these things are, they use human life energy to maintain their own existence."

"But what about the organ and tissue damage," Kome pointed out, "why in some cases was it so widespread and in others, hardly any at all?"

"Perhaps to supply their bodies with energy. Maybe they need both to survive," Kusanagi speculated.

"If that is the case then they are true, parasitic creatures," Ms. Matsudaira observed, and then went on to add, "structurally speaking, they are a unique race. On the surface, their mitamas are more like the red ones that have been genetically altered, and less like the purer blue mitamas. But looking at them on a microscopic level, even their mitamas are completely different; the higher neurological centers have been severely damaged and what is left has been restructured in an unusual way, almost as if the mitama has been manipulated to accommodate its host.

It's not just the mitamas that set these new Aragami apart either. The creatures themselves are neither plant nor animal like the old Aragami. Their blood is hemoglobin and protein based, containing the genetic DNA components of their victims, but their bodies are composed mainly of silicates."

"Silicates?" Kome's face screwed up into a confused look. "What? Do you mean, like a computer chip?"

Matsu shook her head, "No, silicates are not the same thing as pure silicon. They are silicon oxygen compounds, though and they constitute ninety-five percent of the Earth's crust and mantle."

"You mean like a rock?" Now Kome was looking more confused than ever.

"Certain rocks are silicates," Matsu affirmed, "but silicates are complex structures. Their basic structure is the silicon tetrahedron which lends itself well to bonding with other compounds in a variety of ways to create different structures."

"But you're saying that ninety-five percent are in the Earth's crust and mantle – like rocks," Kome persisted.

"Not just rocks, but clay, soil, sand – they all can be silicate based," Matsu clarified.

"Maybe that's why these things like to travel underground so much," Kusanagi inserted, "because they come from underground, or are made from the earth itself."

"Kind of like a golem," Momiji blurted out, feeling silly for saying it and then squirming when everyone shifted their attention to her.

"A golem," Ms. Matsudaira said thoughtfully, "that's an interesting correlation. Golems were effigies or idols created from some type of material, such as clay, stone or iron, for instance, and then were animated by a source of magic. That has a certain relevance here."

"So, what are you saying?" Mr. Kunikida asked Ms. Matsudaira.

"I'm saying that perhaps what we're dealing with here isn't an Aragami at all," Ms. Matsudaira replied slowly, thinking out loud, "but a force that is inhabiting the damaged souls of genetically altered Aragami, and manipulating them for some other reason. - Although that still wouldn't explain the abnormal amount of particle ionization at the iwattos."

A silence fell around the room which Kunikida finally broke. "What abnormal amount of particle ionization, and just what the hell does that mean anyway?"

"Momiji first brought it to my attention," Ms. Matsudaira explained, "that there was an abnormally large amount of particle ionization happening at the iwatto here in Izumo, like some huge electrochemical reaction is occurring or is about to occur. The results that Kome and Yaegashi brought back from Takachiho showed the same results, only to a greater degree, like the reaction had already occurred. And the second batch of samples taken here in Izumo the day that Momiji was attacked, resulted in an even higher level of ionization."

"Is it being caused by these creatures, do you think?" Ryoko asked looking at Matsu.

"That, I don't know," Matsu responded with a frustrated sigh, "it could be that they are causing it, or it could be that they are drawn to it and that's why Momiji was attacked here in Izumo and why Kome and Yaegashi were attacked in Takachiho."

"What about Midori, in Ise/" Momiji asked, feeling suddenly apprehensive.

Matsu paged through her research and then looked up, a look of dismay on her face.

"With all the research I've been doing, I just now realized that I don't have anything on the iwatto in Ise ,which means that I haven't heard from Midori, either" Matsu responded.

"What?" How long ago was this?" Kunikida asked, alarmed.

"Four days ago," came Matsu's aggrieved response.

"Kome, Ryoko, I want you to drive out to Ise and check out the iwatto," Kunikida ordered immediately, "and see if you can track Midori down as well."

"Let me go with you," Momiji said to Ryoko, but Kunikida cut across their exchange.

"No, Momiji. I want you and Kusanagi to go to Takachiho with Sakura and see if any of you can sense anything out of the ordinary since the ionization levels are so high there. Yaegashi, you and Matsu try to work on a method of tracking these creatures before they strike. If we can see them coming, maybe we can stop them before they strike. Sugishita, you'll come back to Tokyo with me. I have a meeting with the Chief Cabinet Secretary to the Prime Minister. You can help me brief him on where we currently stand."

By mid-afternoon, Ryoko and Kome arrived at the iwatto in Ise. They climbed the stone stairs leading to the entrance, a bitterly sharp, cold wind biting into their faces and whipping their hair around. Neither woman said anything, each looking sharply around, trying to remain alert for the presence of Aragami. They paused at the top of the stairs, and listened. There was nothing but silence.

Kome drew her firearm and Ryoko followed suit, and together they entered the iwatto, following the passage to the end where it opened out into the main chamber where the pool of water was. Ryoko came out into the chamber first, shock stopping her dead in her tracks.

"What?" Kome hissed from behind her, "what is it?"

She stepped around Ryoko and her blue eyes widened too.

"Well, I think it's pretty safe to say that it's dead," Kome said, looking at the truncated head and body. "But I wonder who killed it?"

"Kome, look," Ryoko said grimly, picking up the discarded satchel and opening it.

Inside were Midori's tools, her cell phone and her lab ID card. Ryoko handed the satchel to Kome and started looking around the chamber for any other clues as to what might have happened to Midori, noticing Midori's hammer embedded near the spine of the dead creature.

Kome looked in the satchel and then looked around at Ryoko, "Well she's not here, now, which means that that monster didn't get her. That's a good sign, right?" she asked, trying to sound optimistic. "Maybe she was able to flee and went back to her parents, or maybe she's back in Tokyo, now."

"Or maybe," Ryoko hypothesized, crouching down and squinting at something on the floor, "the Aragami that killed this monster took her with it."

"What?" Kome gasped, hurrying over to where Ryoko was, in order to see what she was looking at. "Oh, my god," she breathed, "green blood."

"Green blood," Ryoko confirmed heavily, putting her fingers to her temples and closing her eyes as if to try and shut out the truth.

"What does it mean?"

"It means that we're in more trouble than we thought we were," Ryoko predicted grimly.

Sakura heaved an impatient sigh as she bounced along, Kusanagi separating her and Momiji as they walked to Momiji's car. Neither Kusanagi nor Momiji spoke as they walked, each keeping their gaze straight ahead, Kusanagi because he found Sakura irritating and Momiji because her thoughts were occupied with Midori and Susano-oh.

Sakura glanced up at Kusanagi's stony profile and then looked around at Momiji's preoccupied one and rolled her eyes. Geez, she thought grimacing, was she going to have to spend her entire day with these two cardboard cutouts? She looked at her watch and heaved another sigh, this time of disgust, a pout settling across her freckled face.

"Are you having trouble breathing, Faith Healer?" Kusanagi asked sarcastically, keeping his gaze straight ahead, "you know, if you're finding respiration difficult, you might try wearing something that has a little more breathing room to it, that way you won't hyperventilate."

"What? You mean something bland, like what Momiji's wearing?" Sakura sneered, and Momiji, hearing her name turned her startled eyes to Sakura and heard her say, "you can't expect me, the lovely Sakura, to dress like that! I want men to look at me with admiration, not pity, Kusanagi. And you can't honestly tell me that you get turned on by the boring way she dresses! I just won't believe it" She stopped as a thought struck her and she tossed back her head and laughed, "well really, I just can't see you getting all hot and bothered over her, no matter how she dresses," she remarked, her eyes sliding from Kusanagi, to Momiji and then back to Kusanagi again. "I mean, let's face it, you're a very…macho, sexy kind of guy and Momiji's – well – the word virginal comes to mind."

Momiji gasped in outrage at her comment.

Sakura ignored her and went on to add, "I guess you could use the word chaste, as well, but either way, it's hardly what you would call a good match."

Momiji's face flooded with color and she looked down at herself. Virginal? Chaste? Is that how she really looked? And was that a bad thing? Kusanagi didn't think that was a bad thing, did he? But his next comment did nothing to dispel that possibility in the least.

"How I see Momiji is none of your business, Sakura," Kusanagi replied scathingly, "in fact I would appreciate it if you would keep your freckled, pointy nose out of my business altogether," he scowled down at her, recalling that she was the direct instigator of his conversation with Sugishita that morning.

"My, my, my, we are in a nasty temper today, aren't we," she said in a deceptively sweet voice, "what is it, Kusanagi? Don't you like sharing your toys with the other boys?" she asked, giving him a feline smile, and watching his color rise as her barb hit home.

Sakura let her eyes slide to Momiji who just looked perplexed now, not understanding what she was talking about, and her smile widened. She gave Momiji a playful wink and feeling that she had stirred up enough trouble for the time being subsided into silence.

Momiji's bewildered gaze went from Sakura to Kusanagi, and she blinked in confusion. Kusanagi continued to stare straight ahead, but Momiji knew that something that Sakura said had really riled him because his brows were drawn together and his jaw was clenched tight.

Silence prevailed as they all climbed into the car, Momiji and Sakura in the front seat and Kusanagi, sitting sullenly, arms crossed, in the back. As Momiji drove the silence lengthened and became uncomfortable, but Momiji was afraid to say anything, given the thunderous expression on Kusanagi's face, so she concentrated instead on what she learned this morning.

As she mulled over the information, she couldn't help but think back to the day that she was attacked, remembering the creature and the vision that she had had right before it attacked her, and she pictured in her mind again, the infant with cat-like eyes.

He comes… you must be prepared…

And then it hit her. Prepare for him, the child. She was supposed to prepare for the child! Momiji's mind began to flit in different directions and she slowed the car down at a traffic light in Takachiho.

She looked around at the shops waiting for the light to change and suddenly said, "Do you mind if we make a quick stop before heading to the iwatto?"

She waited for Sakura to answer, but all she heard was a snuffling sound followed by a whoosh of air. Momiji looked over at her, and her mouth fell open. Sakura's head was tilted sideways against the window, her eyes closed, and her mouth hanging open, as she snored.

"She's been asleep since we left Izumo," Kusanagi told Momiji when he saw her surprise.

"How could she possibly fall asleep that quickly?" Momiji wondered aloud.

"Probably the lack of oxygen to the brain," Kusanagi told her sourly from the back seat.

"Do you think she would mind if I made a quick stop?" Momiji asked him, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

Kusanagi shrugged his shoulders indifferently and replied, "Who cares if she does or not? She's never going to know anyway. She's been rattling the car windows with her snores all the way here." He informed her acidly.

"Okay, then," Momiji said, pulling the car over in front of the store and climbing out. "I won't be but a minute," she leaned down and told Kusanagi before she closed the door.

Kusanagi leaned his head against the back seat and waited for Momiji to return. True to her word, she wasn't gone that long, but his head snapped up in amazement at the number of bags she was carrying with her when she did come back.

He sat up straight and watched her circle around the car to put them in the trunk and then when she climbed back in the front seat couldn't help but ask. "What the heck did you buy?" and then before she could answer, he demanded suspiciously, "you didn't take what Sakura said about your clothes seriously, and end up buying a bunch of new clothes, did you?"

He suddenly pictured Momiji dressed in a tight mini-skirt and garters, her cleavage exposed by a low cut midriff shirt and felt himself getting turned on. God help him, he thought, he didn't think he would be able to stand it if she dressed like that.

"What? No!" Momiji declared defensively and then asked uncertainly, "are you saying that I need to change the way that I dress?"

"No," Kusanagi said emphatically, "even you're flannel nightgowns are one hundred times better than what Sakura wears."

And a lot more virginal too, he thought picturing Momiji in pink teddy bears and blue bunnies, trying to get his raging hormones back under control. It wasn't working, because all he could think of was the way Momiji's skin had felt underneath the blue bunnies the morning he had woken up next to her.

"You don't think they're too…" Momiji hesitated, not wanting to ask, but found she couldn't help herself, "you don't think they're too virginal?"

"Why are you asking me that?" he asked, suddenly panicked, not liking where this conversation was headed.

"Well, you did tell me that I needed to wear something more adult," Momiji replied diffidently as color washed through her face.

Kusanagi clearly recalled that conversation, and now images of Momiji dressed in a pink teddy were dancing through his head. Dear god, he mentally groaned, shifting uncomfortably, his pants becoming too tight, what did he ever do to deserve this?

"Adult?" Sakura suddenly snickered from her seat, having woken up within the last few minutes and being thoroughly entertained by Kusanagi and Momiji's verbal interchange. "You actually told her she needed to dress more adult?" Sakura was guffawing now, "Kusanagi, you bad, bad boy! Trying to lead Momiji away from the straight and narrow with your suggestive ideas! How horrible of you!" she sputtered, and both Momiji and Kusanagi were left silently embarrassed while she continued to rib them as they drove on.

"You were much more agreeable while you were snoring, Sakura," Kusanagi seethed, and her laughter abruptly ceased.

"I do NOT snore!" she bristled indignantly.

"You most certainly DO!" Kusanagi shot back smugly, wanting to get back at her, "and let me tell you it is _most_ unattractive. There's nothing sexy at all about snoring, Cherry Blossom," he informed her condescendingly, "and it doesn't matter what you're wearing when you start sawing logs, because nobody's going to be looking while they're running the other way with their hands over their ears, slipping and sliding on that nice puddle of drool that you've got going there."

Sakura gritted her teeth and shot Kusanagi a nasty look, which he met with a nasty smile of his own.

"You bas –" she snarled to be interrupted by Momiji.

"We're here!" Momiji fairly shouted in a loud and urgent way, wanting to get out of the car before either Kusanagi or Sakura exploded in rage.

Momiji pulled the car over, put it in park and quickly zipped out before the other two had even unbuckled their seatbelts. She had only managed to get about ten steps from the car before Kusanagi exploded, but at her and not Sakura.

"Where the hell do you think you're gonig by yourself, you little fool?" He yelled, flitting quickly over to her and grabbing her by the arm. "Have you forgotten that this is where they found one of the Aragami? What if they're still hanging around here, Momiji?"

Momiji stopped and looked around, glancing at the barren trees surrounding the iwatto.

"I haven't forgotten," she told him quietly, removing her arm from his hard grasp and moving forward slowly as she murmured, "don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Kusanagi asked exasperated, reaching out and hooking his fingers around her elbow to stopping her forward motion.

"The sadness," Momiji replied after a minute looking up into his face, a faraway expression in her eyes.

Kusanagi looked startled and shook his head. "I don't feel anything," he replied looking towards the entrance of the iwatto.

Well, that wasn't exactly true, he thought. He was feeling quite a few things at the moment, his memories of this place stirring up a lot of old emotions. In his mind he could clearly picture Kaede protecting the boy, Lord Susano-oh, standing right at the entrance, Murakumo by their side. It was here, that he realized that the Kaede he had once loved and protected was gone forever. Even now, after three years, he could still taste the bitterness.

"Whoa," Kusanagi heard Sakura say from behind him, "this place is swimming in despair."

"You feel it too?" Momiji asked, her green eyes watching Sakura as she gazed around the same way Momiji had just a few moments earlier.

"Yeah, it's impossible not to feel it," Sakura replied, moving purposely forward toward the entrance.

Momiji made to follow her, but Kusanagi stopped her, pulling her back to walk next to him.

"Stay close, Momiji," he told her.

Inside the main chamber of the iwatto all was quiet, but here, even Kusanagi was able sense a heaviness in the air disturbing the natural serenity of the pool. It pressed in on him, and he suddenly felt very depressed.

Then, suddenly through the stillness, they heard the hollow rasp of a laugh and turned as one to stare into the darkness where the sound was coming from.

"I had not expected to find you here, Kusanagi," came a voice that Kusanagi recognized.

It was the voice of the Aragami whose arm he had severed. What the hell was it doing here? Kusanagi immediately jerked Momiji behind his body to shield her, unsheathing the blades in his arms and taking a defensive stance, staring into the darkness and waiting for the Aragami to show itself.

"How the hell do you know my name?" he demanded, his voice hard.

The creature laughed again and finally stepped into the light, its slitted, red eyes focused on Kusanagi, noting the blades and the feral sneer on his face.

"I know more than just your name, little man," the creature assured him shrewdly, his eyes flitting to the small girl peeking from behind Kusanagi's back.

"Look," she whispered, pointing wide-eyed, "its arm grew back."

Tamanasu laughed, again, his mouth stretching into a horrible smile that showed his long fangs and he said, "You must be the Kushinada. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tamanasu of the Tengugaki."

"Tengugaki?" Sakura repeated, her eyebrows shooting up over her crimson eyes, as she stared at the black mitama. "not Aragami?"

"Pitiful humans, you do not deserve to hold the Over World when your power and knowledge is so pathetically weak. We are the Tengugaki, the children of Kakeru Kuni; the Withered Kingdom." Tamanasu informed her, his slitted eyes staring scornfully at her.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Sakura lashed out, "what Withered Kingdom?"

"Below the Over World and the Kingdom of the Roots, and along the Road of the Death lies the Withered Kingdom," Tamanasu's replied, "it is unlike your Over World in every way imaginable. Here your earth is in constant change, brown to green, green to gold, and then gold to brown again. But below, there is only stillness, the blackness of shadows the only color in a landscape of infinite grey.

"Here your heavens are in constant flux; mercurial changes altering your skies as the gods of the moon and the sun vie for supremacy, and the god of storms, Susano-oh, shakes the heavens with his rage at the fickleness of his brother and sister. But below, time is unending, the darkness unbroken by the light of your gods who have long forsaken such a wretched place.

"Here, souls are in constant motion; the promise of life achieved in birth, and growth to a new beginning in a journey beyond death for those fulfilling life's promises and keeping the covenant of the gods. But below are the souls of the damned, those who have broken life's promises and shattered the covenant of the gods and are destined to journey the Road of Death for eternity.

"Here, sleep the dreamers with dreams, giving birth to the shining hopes of your humanity in a world of infinite possibilities. Below are the sinners and their nightmares, giving birth to a greater darkness, a greater power whose goal is domination and immortality.

"This is the world of the Tengugaki. We are born from the shadows, living to destroy those that revile us and reviling those that gave us life. Our covenant is the domination of humans and Aragami, our promise, the fulfillment of evolution through human and Aragami blood.

"Through evolution, we will attain perfection and finally break free from the shackles of the Under World to become immortal and invincible. We will lay waste to your worlds, the worlds of the humans and the Aragami, and we will destroy your gods in revenge for forsaking us, the forgotten children."

"We-he-he-ll," Sakura replied caustically, her hands fisted by her sides as she leaned forward and spat, "those are some awfully big goals for a race of demons that are so weak that they rely on their enemy to give them strength. But one thing I've learned is demons are always good at lies and deception. Except this time, I think the only ones you've deceived have been yourselves, Mr. Tamanasu. What makes you think that the we'll just quietly lay down and die and let you have our world."

"Try and stop us, if you want," Tamanasu laughed, "but your demise is inevitable. It is just a matter of time, now -"

"You won't find what you're looking for," Momiji declared vehemently, interrupting him as she stepped from behind Kusanagi, her green eyes staring unwavering into the surprised face of Tamanasu.

She took an unhindered step forward, Kusanagi too surprised by her action to stop her.

"You won't succeed in your plan," she told Tamanasu with sudden ferocity, "I won't let you! I'll find him before you do!"

She stood with her legs braced apart, staring defiantly at the Tengugaki, and watched the rage kindle in his red eyes. He stretched, his limbs and body becoming even bigger, and his horns elongating to curl like giant spikes toward his back. His transformation complete, he began moving purposefully towards Momiji.

"How did you know!?" Tamanasu demanded, "Tell me, Kushinada, how did you know what I was looking for!?"

"Momiji!" Kusanagi called urgently, flitted forward then, and snatching Momiji up to carry her away from the long reach of Tamanasu, "what the hell are you doing!?" he snarled at her before setting her down.

Sakura had stepped up to face Tamanasu in the meantime, her crimson eyes hard and full of purpose and Tamanasu stopped, his eyes moving from Momiji to where Sakura stood as a blockade between them

"Your spirit is strong, human. I see your energy spiraling around you in long silver waves." He took a step toward her, but stopped when Kusanagi suddenly flitted between him and Sakura, his fisted hand raised to his face, turning his blade outwards into an attacking position.

"Hold it right there, you freak," Kusanagi spat through gritted teeth.

"Move, Kusanagi!" Sakura blared, "you're getting in my way!"

She stepped around the other side of Kusanagi and began chanting, pulling out a talisman and holding it between her forefinger and middle finger. She finished her chant and flipped it over transforming it into a high - energy sphere.

"If you're hungry, you clay bastard, try a taste of this!" she hissed and heaved the ball of light at him.

Tamanasu stepped aside, and the sphere exploded against the stone wall behind him. It shattered into a mass of light that illuminated the entire iwatto in brilliant white for all of two seconds before it abruptly died out, shaking the walls and the floor just from the impact. Huge chunks of rubble began to fall, creating an entirely new problem.

"Damn, Sakura!" Kusanagi ranted at her, as he was forced to shield his face and head from the sharp stones scraping past him on the way to the ground, "what are you trying to do, kill us all?"

"Shut up, Kusanagi!" she flashed back, shooting him a dirty look before ducking her head beneath her own arms, "I'll do whatever it takes to kill this bastard!"

Tamanasu shielded his face as well, not just from the falling debris, but because his eyes, unused to the light, had been momentarily blinded. He must get away. He was not strong enough to fight them both, right now. Even if he were strong enough to fight them now, it would be quite pointless since he could not engage in a battle with the ultimate goal of killing Kusanagi. The shower of debris began to subside, and Tamanasu dropped his clawed hand away from his face, his eyes sliding to Momiji's huddled form.

"You will not win, Kushinada," he promised her, " and when we find him, your life will be forfeit as well."

He turned and fled back down the passage of the iwatto.

"Don't let him get away!" Sakura shrieked and started running after him, closely followed by Kusanagi, the clicking of their footsteps retreating into the sudden silence.

Momiji watched them leave the chamber and collapsed to her knees. She began shaking violently all over in delayed shock, as she pictured in her mind, the infant of her vision being attacked, his life drained away by the foul Tengugaki, the same way hers had been. Momiji's chin dropped to her chest, and her breathing became rapid as she closed her eyes, feeling a sheen of perspiration break out on her forehead. She leaned forward, her palms flat against the cold stone of the floor, and her arms shook violently, threatening to give way and leave her lying face down and the floor. She was suddenly freezing, her hands and feet icy cold, and she could feel her breath coming out in long shudders but couldn't seem to get it back under control. She was about to be sick, she realized, and doubled over as she retched out the contents of her stomach.

As soon as she was finished, she felt a hand touch her shoulder and she let out a terrified shriek, shrinking away from the contact.

"It's me, Momiji," Kusanagi reassured her, when she tried to pull away from him, her face stark white and her eyes dark with fear.

She didn't seem to hear him and he grabbed her by both arms, pulling her stiff body up close to him and calling her name.

"It's over, Momiji. He's gone," he kept telling her over and over until he felt her body begin to relax, aware that Sakura was hovering anxiously by his side, staring at Momiji.

Momiji clung to Kusanagi. Her hands fisted in his shirt and she leaned her face against his chest, feeling her body begin to gradually warm as he continued to hold her close, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

After some minutes, Sakura finally spoke, unable to hold her silence any longer. "Momiji, what did you mean when you said 'you won't find what you're looking for'? What is it that Tamanasu is looking for?"

Momiji hesitated briefly and then stuttered, "A – a child – I think he's looking for a child."

"A child!?" Sakura asked incredulously, "whose child? What for?"

Momiji shook her head, and laughed hysterically into Kusanagi's chest, "I don't know!"


	14. 13: Rude Awakening

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sun was setting, Midori noticed as she stood in front of the make-shift lab in her brother's kitchen. He would be getting restless, now. He always did when the sun started to go down she thought, tiredly. She wondered who he was for the hundredth time as she stirred the chemical contents of the glass bowl being heated over a pan of water on the gas stove, and wondered too, if she was doing the wrong thing by not telling the people at the Science and Experiment Department.

Midori knew he was Aragami and that she should probably tell someone, but she couldn't bring herself to do it while he was so helpless. She pushed her disquieting thoughts aside and rubbed her neck, her eyes drawn to the mahagony wood of the floor. The identity of the man with dark hair was temporarily forgotten as she stared down at it. It gleamed flawlessly, except for one large, barren spot right in the middle.

Perhaps if she squinched up her eyes, it wouldn't look so back. Midori tried it, and then heaved a hopeless sigh. It was no use. Oh, boy, she thought. She had totally ruined it, and, Yuji was not going to be happy with her when he finally came home and saw the huge chemical burn she had made when she had accidentally dropped a beaker full of acid wash yesterday.

The sad thing was that she had worked extra hard to keep his house clean, so that he wouldn't have to know that she had even been here. Every other part of the house looked flawless. But this, Midori thought, staring morosely down at the scarred wood, there was no way she could hide this. – Maybe she could buy a rug! – but no, that was no good. Yuji would just wonder why a strange rug was lying in his kitchen and remove it anyway. Feeling even more downhearted than ever, she pushed her thoughts away. She would think about it later, she told herself

Midori turned the heat to the stove off and left the finished solution to cool. She wouldn't be able to use the new solution until tomorrow, but she still had enough left in her medicinal flask for tonight, and tomorrow, so it didn't really matter. But she believed in being prepared, so she had made this batch in advance. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she moved around the kitchen and gathered up her medical supplies. Time to treat the patient, she thought determinedly.

Midori crept towards the spare bedroom that her brother used as her room when she came to see him and peeked inside. The bed was too small for him, but she had put him in here because this room received the most sunlight during the day, and she had thought that perhaps that would help his body to recover quicker. Just as she had feared, he was thrashing restlessly, his long arms and legs making the bed look even smaller.

Midori moved soundlessly into the room, putting her things on the floor next to the bed and reached out to try and quiet his movements to keep him from rolling onto the floor. The dark-haired stranger shifted restlessly. He flung his arm out and she grabbed it to try and anchor him in place, marveling as always at how human he felt to her touch.

It was like wrestling a squid, she thought in exasperation as she grappled with him. He always seemed to have more arms than she did, and she tried to keep her aggravation from showing as she murmured softly to him, trying to calm his restiveness. After a few minutes of push and pull, her words of comfort seemed to affect him, for he quit struggling so hard, and Midori was able to let him go. She slumped with relief, pushing from her flushed cheeks the thick strands of dark brown hair that had gathered there during her struggle with the dark haired stranger.

Drawing in a deep breath to help collect herself, Midori bent down and picked up a piece of gauze and applied the solution from the flask to it. Leaning forward, she pushed aside the robe that she had managed to put on him and began to lightly swab his chest. She was so immersed in what she was doing that she almost cried out when she felt his long fingers snake out and catch her wrist in a cruel grip, holding her hand immobile from its task.

Murakumo felt pain tugging at his consciousness, pulling him from the oblivion of darkness and into the bright flames that seemed to be searing his chest. He opened his grey eyes, seeing nothing but blurred shapes in the dimness of the light, and felt a grimace twist his face. What was that god-awful smell? Slowly the room came into focus and he saw the shiny, dark hair of a human girl bent over him, her hand hovering over the spot in his chest where the fires raged.

What the hell did she think she was doing, he thought, reaching up to grab her hand, his grey eyes pinned coldly to the crown of her head.

His touch was unexpected and she turned and looked at him with startled eyes, her mouth slightly agape. Murakumo continued to stare coldly at her and was baffled when she smiled at him, her brown eyes sliding happily over him.

"You're finally awake!" she murmured delightedly.

"Oh. It's you," Murakumo said, letting go of her wrist as his eyes flitted dismissively over her nondescript features and big brown eyes, and he recognized her as the girl from the iwatto.

"My name's Midori," she told him quietly after he released her, leaning back and rubbing at the red marks his fingers had left on her wrist.

Murakumo ignored her for the moment and let his gaze wonder around the room, instead. "Where am I and how did I get here?" he demanded imperiously.

"I'll answer your questions, if you answer one of mine first," Midori bargained and remained unaffected when he scowled at her.

How dare she dictate to him?! The insolence of her attitude infuriated him, but there was little he could do about it in his current condition.

"What is it you want to know, human?" he asked her sullenly, his pique growing at the smile of satisfaction that spread across her face.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"I am called, Murakumo," he informed her coolly, looking away from her and then added, "and now that I have fulfilled your request, tell me what I want to know. Where am I and how did I get here?"

Murakumo, Midori thought. What a noble sounding name. She burned to ask him even more questions, but knew better, so she did her best to answer his.

"You're in Ise, at my brother's house," she told him. "My brother's out of the country on business and this is the only place I could think to bring you."

Murakumo's eyes flitted back to her then, and he looked disbelievingly at her slight figure, "You brought me here?"

Impossible, he thought, but she nodded her head, and he continued to stare at her.

"You?! Brought _me_ here?!" he reiterated incredulously knowing that if he were able to stand, he would tower over her by at least a foot.

"Well, yes," she replied diffidently, It felt like he was calling her a liar. "But you did help some."

"I did?" he asked, his dark brows soaring over his steel grey eyes.

"Don't you remember?" she asked, eyeing him uncertainly.

"Not particularly," he replied faintly, shifting uncomfortably in the small bed, and felt pain rip through his chest.

He let out a strangled cry and Midori bent over him in immediate concern.

"Try not to move," she urged him as the pain began to recede a bit and he lay panting heavily, feeling drained.

His vision started going in and out of focus, and he watched Midori reach down and pick up a piece of gauze, bringing it close to his chest. Murakumo immediately recoiled from her, striking her hand away as the noxious smell reached his nose and he paid for his actions with another bought of pain.

What was wrong with him? Had this pathetic human been poisoning him, with that foul smelling potion? He should kill her now and be done with it. He had no time for human schemes, knowing that there was much he must do to reclaim his kingdom. He tried to sit up, tried to draw his blade, but he couldn't, his efforts causing such a haze of pain that he felt like his chest was being ripped apart.

"What have you done to me?" he demanded weakly, his eyes staring accusingly at her as he realized he was on the verge of passing out.

Midori gave him a bewildered look. "I haven't done anything, except try to help you."

"That's a lie!" he retorted harshly, his voice raw with pain. He struggled to maintain consciousness, as he put his hand to his chest, "you have been poisoning me!"

Midori looked shocked, and she didn't know what to say. The first words she thought of inadvertently popped out of her mouth.

"What an idiotic thing to say!" she reprimanded him, seeing his eyes widen first in shock and then in fury, but she didn't care. "Do you really think that I would have dragged your butt all the way back here if all I wanted to do was poison you? That's utterly ridiculous!! If I were trying to kill you, it would have been easier to leave you at the iwatto and let you bleed to death!"

"Why you little bitch!" he hissed, his hand shooting out and grabbing her by the neck. He dragged her down so her face was just inches from his, his grey eyes boring into her brown ones. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" he asked her in a softly menacing way, his hand trembling from the effort of holding onto her.

Midori didn't say anything, her mouth thinning into a mutinous line. He was trying to intimidate her, she thought, as she met his gaze unflinching. But it wasn't going to work, she decided, her own temper flaring at his attitude. She had worked too hard to help him to be treated like this.

"I am the king of Aragami," he declared arrogantly when she didn't say anything, and finally let her go, too weak to hold her anymore.

Finally free, Midori slowly stood up, but kept her gaze locked with his, her eyes sparkling with anger. "How nice for you," she told him tartly, "maybe you could start acting like it then and show a little refinement. I've seen better manners from a garbage collector."

Murakumo's face twisted with fury and he reached out and grabbed her again, but this time, he lacked the strength to hold onto her, letting her go almost immediately as his vision darkened.

Midori watched as Murakumo's hand slid away from her and his eyes fluttered closed. In seconds he was unconscious again, but she continued to stand there and stare defiantly at him for a minute more. Then with a deep sigh, she picked up the cotton and finished what she came to do, her hands gentle despite her desire to thump him hard in the head.

"There, you ungrateful wretch, " she muttered to him even though he couldn't hear her. "And the next time you open your eyes, I hope you at least have the decency to ask a few pertinent questions before you start flinging accusations at me!"

She glowered down at his unconscious face, and then with a loud snort, collected her things and left the room.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Momiji?" Mr. Kunikida asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," she responded, looking down at the table to avoid his gaze, "really."

She, Kusanagi, and Sakura had returned to Izumo and were at a local restaurant where they had arranged to meet Mr. Kunikida before they had left Takachiho. Kusanagi had driven back, and Momiji had sat in the back seat with her eyes closed the whole way to avoid any questions. She really did feel better than she had at the iwatto, but she couldn't shake the persistent feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

"So," Mr. Kunikida recounted, "what you're telling me is that these new Aragami aren't Aragami at all, but something called Tengugaki?"

Kusanagi nodded his head.

"And that they are after a…child," Mr. Kunikida reiterated.

Kusanagi's gaze slid to Momiji before he answered. "That's what we think – "

"That's not what we think," Sakura rudely cut in, "that's what Momiji thinks! And just how would she know, anyway?"

"Shut up, Sakura !" Kusanagi ordered impatiently, "you know as well as I do how Tamanasu reacted when Momiji told him he wouldn't find who he was looking for."

Sakura's lips compressed into a thin line, and her crimson eyes burned resentfully as they rested on Momiji, who was still staring uncomfortably at the table.

"All right," she conceded, ungraciously, "so Momiji knew he was looking for someone. But what I want to know, is _how_ Momiji knew that he was looking for someone."

Here it comes, Momiji thought, tensing up at Sakura's words. She had been dreading this ever since they left the iwatto, and she knew she wouldn't be able to dodge the questions any longer. But the problem was she still didn't think she should tell them about Susano-oh. She knew it was ridiculous to hide it, but somehow it felt…wrong to divulge how she knew.

"Momiji is the Kushinada," Kusanagi replied, looking down his nose at Sakura, "there are a lot of things that she knows without having to be told, Faith Healer. Why don't you just accept that your powers of perception aren't in the same league as hers?"

Momiji's eyes widened and she tried to hide her surprise, knowing that what Kusanagi had said, he had said to protect her from Sakura's probing question.

Sakura stiffened at Kusanagi's insult, just as he had intended, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "I'll have you know, I am at the top of my field – "

"Spare us," Kusanagi cut in impatiently, rolling his eyes, "I think we all know by now how great you think you are."

Sakura leaned forward and growled at Kusanagi, but Kunikida intervened at this point trying to keep the fight from escalating. "That's enough, you two," he barked, and then when they lapsed into silence, added more calmly, "is there anything else I should know?"

"You mean about the iwatto?" Momiji asked, responding after realizing that Sakura and Kusanagi were too busy throwing each other dirty looks to be of any use in the conversation. Mr. Kunikida nodded, and so Momiji told him about the aura of sadness that she and Sakura had felt outside the iwatto.

"Hmmm. I wonder if that has anything to do with what Ms. Matsudaira was saying about the high levels of particle ionization?" He speculated.

Momiji was about to respond when his phone rang. It was Ryoko so he excused himself from the conversation for a moment.

Momiji listened to the one-sided discussion, intently watching Mr. Kunikida. Near the end, his grave demeanor gave way to shock, and all the color drained out of his face as he said, "Dear god! - are you sure, Ryoko?" and then after a pause, "have you searched the area? I'll be there as soon as I can."

Momiji waited with baited breath for him to finish his conversation, and even Kusanagi and Sakura had stopped shooting each other hostile looks, waiting and wondering just what it was that Ryoko had said to him.

"What is it?" Momiji asked, apprehensively, "is it Midori?"

Mr. Kunikida hesitated, and his eyes sympathetic when he said, "I'm sorry Momiji, but Midori has gone missing. Ryoko and Kome found her things inside the iwatto, and they also found the decapitated body of another Tengugaki."

"There's no way that Midori could be responsible for such a thing," Kusanagi observed.

Mr. Kunikida nodded his head. "Unfortunately, you're right about that. An Aragami did it."

There was a long silence into which Kusanagi slowly replied, "You mean another Tengugaki, don't you?"

"No," Mr. Kunikida replied heavily, "I mean Aragami. They found a copious amount of green blood inside the iwatto as well. Ryoko thinks that the Aragami slew the Tengugaki and took Midori as well."

"No!" Momiji cried, her distress drowning out Kusanagi's violent cursing, but just barely. "That can't be!" she protested in a tight voice, balling up her fists on top of the table

"I'm sorry, Momiji," Mr. Kunikida apologized again, "we'll do everything we can to find her. I promise." He stood up then his gaze sweeping over all of them. "I'm not sure what this means - how the Aragami could have re-awoken, but I'm relying on you all to work together as a team." He paused and looked meaningfully from Sakura to Kusanagi. "If we're to have any hope of defeating both the Aragami and the Tengugaki, then you're going to have to learn to get along."

Neither one of them said anything and Mr. Kunikida didn't waste any more words on the issue, telling them he would be in touch as soon as he had some new information. And then he was gone.

"Well, I'm outta here," Sakura said with a shrug a few minutes later, rising to her feet as well. "I have a big date tonight and I sure as hell can't go like this. Surely you and Carrot Boy can handle things on your own until some time tomorrow afternoon?" she said to Momiji and continued without waiting for a reply, "If you have an emergency between now and then, try not to call me. It'll only mess things up. Ta-ta," she told them dampeningly and then she was gone too.

Momiji turned to look at Kusanagi then and found his eyes pinned to her in an unnerving fashion.

"It was Susano-oh, wasn't it, Momiji," he wanted to know without preamble, "that's how you knew about the child, isn't it?"

Feeling conscience-stricken, Momiji looked down at her hands and nodded.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Momiji could feel Kusanagis displeasure with her.

"Why didn't you tell me, Momiji?" he asked her, and she flinched at the coldness of his voice. "How am I supposed to protect you if you don't tell me what's going on?"

"I'm sorry," she replied miserably, biting her lip her contrite gaze coming back to rest on him.

"Is there anything else that you know that you're not telling me?" Kusanagi demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her intently.

Bind yourself to Kusanagi…he is your destiny…

Momiji's face turned red and she looked away, but not before she saw the flash of anger and suspicion in Kusanagi's cat-like eyes.

"There is something else, isn't there, Momiji," he pressed relentlessly.

Momiji turned her shoulder to him and mutely shook her head, but he was having none of that. He grabbed her by the arm and with his other hand, wrapped his fingers around her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"What are you not telling me, Momiji?" he demanded, his scrutiny of her expression ruthless as he tightened his fingers on her chin when she tried to pull away, "is it the Aragami? Did Susano-oh tell you that he was going to reawaken the Aragami?"

"No!" Momiji replied defensively. She raised her hand to pry his fingers loose and twisted free of his grasp, but didn't look away from him, "no, Kusanagi, I swear that Susano-oh never said anything about the Aragami. Technically, he didn't even tell me about the child," she informed him, "I saw the child in a vision I had at the iwatto before the Tengugaki attacked me.

"Well, then what is it that you're holding back?"

"I- I-'m not holding anything back," Momiji stuttered, her words belying the tide of color rising in her face, "at least nothing to do with the Tengugaki or the Aragami, _or_ the child."

"What is it then?" he demanded losing patience with her excessive reticence

"I can't tell you!" she finally blurted out squirming uncomfortably, "it's nothing important, Kusanagi. He just promised me that…things would work out." Kusanagi gave her a disbelieving look and so she added, "really, that was all it was! - nothing more - nothing important."

Kusanagi remained silent, for a minute more and then he abruptly stood up, leaving her sitting alone at the table.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji called, scrambling to catch up with him, "Kusanagi, please don't be mad," she pleaded, looking up at him as she trotted alongside him to keep up with him.

Kusanagi thrust his hands in his pockets and snorted. Then a smirk tipped the corners of his mouth and he gave her a significant look. "I don't get mad, Princess," he informed her with a glint, "I get even. You'd do well to remember that."

Hikaru stumbled and fell to her knees, a low moan swelling from her throat as another strong pain gripped her around the middle. She remained crouched over even after the pain rolled away. Her moonbeam like hair was plastered to her head from perspiration and it hung lankly down her back. Defeat was written in every line of her body and despair dulled her violet eyes. Kaede called to her, but she remained unheeding, sitting listlessly slumped over.

"Please, my lord," Kaede begged from the darkness, her heart torn in pity for the fate of this one lost child, "we must do something – I must do something," she cried, "she is not going to make it if I cannot help her." Her husband did not reply and she closed her eyes tight, thick tears clogging her throat at his rejection.

"There is one way, my sweet," Susano-oh told her slowly and against his better judgement.

Kaede opened her eyes and turning eagerly to stare up into his face as she felt him place his hand on her shoulder. She put her fingers up and warmly squeezed his, her smile loving as she murmured, "I am willing to do anything."

"Kaede. It is very dangerous," he informed her gravely, not returning her smile, "it puts your soul at risk, and I would not have you do such a thing – "

"Please!" She turned and laid her face against his shoulder, closing her eyes as his arms encircled her. "Please, my lord," she entreated again, "I know that we cannot save her, but please let me help her until it is finished. She doesn't deserve to be treated so cruelly, to be left to bear this child alone, forsaken by all…" her voice became tight and she pressed her face against him, drawing strength from his presence. "If it were me, would you have me bear such a burden alone?"

"No," he finally said, his arms squeezing her tightly before he loosened them to hold her away from his body so that he might look into her face, "but if I allow you this, Kaede, you must promise not to expose your soul to the Tengugaki. You must promise to return to me."

Kaede gave him a luminous smile, her fingers caressing his cheek, "My place is with you, my lord. I will never forget that."

His hands slid up and cupped her face, his thumbs tracing the contours of her lips. "Then I will not deny you this," he told her softly as he bent to place a lingering kiss upon her mouth.

His hand slid downward from her face, coming to rest over her heart, and a brilliant light began to shine between them where he touched her. Kaede could feel the strength of his power coursing through her, a crystalline wave overwhelming her with its purity and brilliance as it surged into her, making her limbs feel heavy and her head spin. Susano-oh held onto her tightly, his lips increasing their pressure, not wanting to let her go. But even as he kissed her, he could feel her slipping away from him, away from the shapelessness of unborn dreams and into the light.

As Kaede faded from his side, she coalesced into solidness next to Hikaru, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, a brilliant light emanating from her chest. The glow of light waned, converging into a shimmering, crystal mitama centered over her heart. Kaede opened her eyes, feeling strangely heavy and looked down at her corporeal body.

"Remember your promise, my love, and guard well your mitama from the Tengugaki for it contains your soul. Now make haste, so that you may return to me."

Kaede heard the words in her head as if they were her own thoughts, and she felt a pain constrict around her heart as she realized that with her decision she had well and truly severed her bond with Susano-oh. She pushed her own pain aside though when she heard the quiet sobs of the huddled figure on the ground next to her and she crouched down and put a soft hand on Hikaru's shoulder.

Startled, Hikaru turned her streaming eyes to Kaede's sweet smile.

"It's all right," Kaede soothed, brushing the hair away from Hikaru's temple, "you're not alone any more."

"Y-you're the one I've been hearing aren't you?" Hikaru hiccupped, drinking in the kindness of Kaede's face and touch like a thirsty child.

"Yes," Kaede replied, drawing Hikaru's arm around her own shoulders and helping her to her feet, her arm encircling Hikaru's waist to keep her upright. "my name is Kaede, and I promise that I will stay with you as long as you need me. It's not far now, Hikaru," she urged her, taking a small step forward, "just a little farther, and you can rest."

They began to move forward, stopping when the labor pains gripped Hikaru and she was incapable of moving. Their progress was slow, and Kaede kept looking back over her shoulder, sensing danger closing in. It was true that they weren't far from the iwatto now, but Kaede wondered if they would be able to reach it in time.

"My lord," she murmured under her breath, "even with my help, I don't know if it's going to be enough. Please help us."

As she whispered the words, she felt the wind pick up, a gust blowing her hair away from her face.

"Kaede," Hikaru panted weakly, drawing Kaede's attention to her, "will you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Promise me that no matter what happens to me, you will take care of my baby," Hikaru begged, and Kaede could see from the look in her eyes, that she was aware of her own frailty.

"I cannot," came Kaede's troubled reply, her arm tightening around Hikaru's waist, "I must return to my place when you no longer need me, Hikaru. But I promise that before that happens I will see your child safely to one who is aware of his coming. You need not fear for him, for he will be well loved and protected by the lives of others."

Hikaru swallowed hard. "Thank you, Kaede."

She took shuffling steps on trembling legs, moving inexorably foward in the waning light of the afternoon, leaning heavily upon the dark haired woman at her side. Fatalistically, she accepted whatever destiny held in store for her, now that she knew her baby would be safe. She was tired, she thought. More tired than her seventeen years, and she wanted badly to rest; but not until she had held her child in her arms at least once. Just once, so that she could feel the presence of Tsurugi once more, and see with her own eyes the miracle of life that her union with him had created.

Matsu leaned back and rubbed her eyes before resuming her position of staring down at the plate under the microscope.

"I think I've isolated the right one this time," she murmured to Yaegashi, carefully taking a sample from the plate she was looking at and transferring it to another slide for computer analysis.

Yaegashi's hands paused over his keyboard and he swiveled around to look at Matsu's form, swathed in a white lab coat stooping over the table.

"That's great!" he started to say, but was interrupted by her loud outburst.

"Damn!" She pulled back, her hands fisting at her sides and stomped her foot.

"Not the right one?" he asked sympathetically with a raised eyebrow.

He pushed up his glasses and watched her turn on her heel and storm ill-temperedly away from the table, moving over to the window to stare crossly out at the gathering clouds.

"No, dammit!" she cried in exasperation, "I don't think I've ever seen a protein chain encoded so complicatedly before. I don't know how long it's going to take for me to find the right isotope, but at the rate I'm going it'll be weeks!"

Yaegashi nodded his head towards his computer screen. "Well at least we have this to work with in the meantime. Using these radio isotopes, we can devise a device that will track the Tengugaki within a five mile radius once they are above ground."

Matsu looked over at him and sighed. "I know, Yaegashi, but it's not good enough." She came to stand behind him and looked down at the equation on his computer screen. "These will only work on those Tengugaki that have claimed a victim, because they come from the genetic code of the victims themselves. That means, in order to track them, we have to have a victim to start with. Why should we have to sacrifice even one life before we can track these horrible creatures down!? I won't accept that – I can't accept that!" she exclaimed in agitation, spinning away and returning to her lab equipment .

"I'm not saying this is the solution," Yaegashi replied, "but until you can isolate the correct radio isotope, this is better than nothing."

"Tell that to the people whose lives are in danger," Matsu muttered under her breath, too low for Yaegashi to hear.

She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, but she wasn't going to feel better until she had devised a system that would stop the human bloodshed. More determined than ever, she prepared another slide and began her meticulous search for the key that would allow them to track the Tengugaki before they struck.

Tamanasu stopped, his body quivering with anticipation. He turned his head to the right, his red-slitted eyes staring off between the trees. The scent hung strong in the air, he could smell the sweet vitality of it and a horrible smile transfigured his face. The child was not far now. He was closing in, and soon, the prize would be in his possession.

He would return, victorious to his lord, Akumakai, bringing with him, the catalyst for their ascension to the Overworld. And then all the Tengugaki would shed the shackles that held them in the Withered Kingdom and feast upon the bright souls here, absorbing them until they were less than the shadowed wraiths that wandered the Road of Death. Both the humans and the Aragami would fall beneath their power, and with the rise of Lord Akumakai even their gods would be subjugated as well. Domination, power, annihilation. It was all within his grasp now.

His thoughts spurred him on and, he morphed his body, his legs becoming thicker and shorter and his arms becoming powerful forelegs so that he could cover more ground in a quicker period of time. With renewed excitement, he began moving forward again, only to stop a few minutes later, when he was unable to maintain his current form.

He needed energy if he was to pursue the child and his mother without losing their trail. He looked around, feeling for the closest flow of energy and turned his body to the south. There, he thought. It was not a strong current, but it would have to do. Changing his course, he burrowed underground and began to stalk his victim.

It was an old woman, he realized as he emerged quietly behind her, watching as she hung her laundry out to dry. It would be an easy kill for him, but her energy would not sustain him for long. He would wait, though; wait for her to turn and see him, for a human's terror was almost as satisfying to him as the flow of a human soul. And with this one, it would be even more satisfying, because her life stream was a mere trickle. Her soul would offer him little satisfaction since her life's journey was almost at its natural end, and so he would savor the taste of her terror instead

He approached her quietly, flexing his fingers so his claws became even longer, their sharp points taking on the shape of a curving blade. He stopped just a few feet from her, his shadow falling across the ground as she bent to pick up another piece of laundry from her basket. She turned then, her cloudy brown eyes staring up at him in disbelief.

She straightened and took a step away from him, and he smiled his twisted smile, feeling the terror well up inside of her and savoring its flavor.

"What are you?" her voice quavered.

"I am your reckoning," he hissed at her and took a menacing step towards her.

She tried to run then and he laughed, and let her go, enjoying the game of toying with her. She had almost made it to the back door of her house when he let out a roar and leapt forward, landing between her and sanctuary. He smiled again, his bared fangs dripping saliva as he longed to sink his teeth into her flesh and feed from her energy stream.

She knew she was going to die, knew that he would not let her escape. He could see it in her cloudy eyes, and his pleasure dimmed somewhat at the resignation that registered there. This one was too old to die properly, he thought to himself. She would miss life, but not like one who had only just begun life's journey. This old woman's regrets were small ones, and that did not satisfy him. He stopped smiling and raised his claws.

He should try to kill her slowly; to enjoy her pain. But there was a danger in that the meagerness of her life stream might abruptly cease upon his first strike and end his chance to absorb what little energy it had to offer him, so he could not even take pleasure in the kill. His hand shot out and her grabbed her by the head, lifting her off her feet and raising her above the ground so that she dangled helplessly in front of him.

"Be thankful that Fate has kindly awarded you a swift death, old woman," he hissed at her as the mitama on his forehead began to glow red and he felt the pulse of her life energy slide through his veins.

It was over too soon and her energy did little to renew him. Angered at the meagerness of her spirit, he left her with just enough energy so that she could feel the blow of death as he sank his claws into the wall of her chest.

"Pathetic human," he sneered as her warm blood cascaded down his mottled flesh, and she refused to cry out, "you were not even worth the effort," he told her as the light died from her eyes and he bent his head, his tongue slithering out to taste the blood that streamed down his wrist and arms.

He threw her lifeless body to the ground and ripped into her then. Her spirit might be too weak to fuel his mitama, but at least her body would help to restore some of his physical strength. Done at last he turned and left her, still seething at the waste of effort she had been. Her flesh might have restored his strength for now, but It would fade quickly, unless he found another human with a stronger life stream to feed from since his main source of energy was stored in his mitama.

A cold wind began to blow, chilling his sensitive skin and he looked up at the sky. The clouds were roiling up, becoming dark and thick; the direct work of Lord Susano-oh, he surmised. Tamanasu could not travel above ground for long periods in the cold. It wasted too much of his energy and the god of Storms was very aware of that fact. His anger increased as the wind bit into him again.

"You think to stop me this way?" he asked in soft disdain, "your worthless tricks serve only to fuel my determination. I will find more energy, and I will claim the child. And then, Susano-oh you will bow down to my lord, Akumakai."

Tamanasu reoriented himself, searching for the scent of the child and upon finding it, set off again, ignoring the cutting wind for now. He could not travel above ground much longer in the dropping temperature, so he must quickly locate more energy while maintaining the trail of the child. He could do it. He was determined to show the gods that they were no match for the Tengugaki.


	15. 14: The Taste of Vengeance

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kusanagi barely waited for Momiji to pull up in the drive before he was out of the car and stalking towards the front door of the house. His tall frame was brightly illuminated by the headlights of the car as he walked in front of it and the light brought out the green highlights in his dark hair and threw his face into shadow, making him look even more forbidding that he had on the ride home from the restaurant. Momiji's eyes forlornly followed his movement, watching him open the door and disappear inside the house.

She idly wondered what he was going to do, for he had made it very clear that he was going to do something.

I don't get mad, Princess. I get even, had been his exact phrase, and Momiji knew that he had meant it. But what could he possibly do as punishment for her not telling him about Susano-oh? Stop talking to her? It wasn't like he was the greatest conversationalist in the world to begin with, and a few less words here and there probably wouldn't make that big of a difference, Momiji told herself with a wry twist of her lips. But still, she didn't want their relationship to move backwards, and that was exactly where it was headed.

With a heavy sigh, Momiji took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. She gathered up her files on the Tengugaki, got her bags out of the trunk and slowly followed Kusanagi into the house. He had turned on the lights in the living room, but he wasn't in there, and Momiji wasn't sure if she wanted to try and find him, considering the current mood he was in.

Instead, she trod over to her answering machine and listened to her messages. There was one from Akiko and another one from her mother, but nothing from Midori, like she had been hoping there would be. Still clutching her files and her bags in one hand, she picked up the phone and dialed it with the other. She would call her mother and Akiko later, she told herself, but right now, she wanted to see if she could get in touch with Midori.

No answer. Momiji frowned, and when Midori's machine picked up, she left a message for her. Not quite ready to give up, Momiji called Midori's parents, and when she asked to speak to her friend, Midori's mother told her that she had left to return to Tokyo four days ago.

Momiji's worry must have sounded in her voice because there was a slight pause and then Midori's mother asked, "Mrs. Kunikida called earlier looking for her as well. Is there something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Momiji echoed faintly, "err, well n-not –" she stammered and with a grimace, closed her eyes

What should she do? It wasn't like she could say, 'I'm sorry, but the TAC thinks your daughter has been carted off by some plantlike creature and we don't know where she is.' Where was the tact in that? Momiji cast around desperately for something to tell Midori's mother, but couldn't think of anything, and so she stood there, silently opening and closing her mouth like a stranded fish.

"Tell her that you thought Midori said she would be there," came Kusanagi's voice quietly from behind her, and Momiji turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. "Tell her, Momiji," he urged her when she just stood there staring at him.

"I – I thought that Midori said she was going to stay a couple of extra days with you, Mrs. Fujisawa. She's probably back in Tokyo right now, working late at the lab. I'll try her there."

Momiji could tell that Mrs. Fujisawa was still very worried, but she didn't know what else to do. She knew that she couldn't be the one to tell her that Midori was missing. That would have to officially come from Mr. Kunikida and the TAC. Momiji turned and put the phone down, every nerve in her body highly aware of Kusanagi's presence, as he stood just behind her, giving her an enigmatic look.

"Try not to worry, Momiji," he told her gruffly, "the Aragami have no real reason to take her, so I think that the TAC is wrong about that. She'll probably turn up safe."

It wasn't much of a reassurance, but Momiji could see that he was trying. And at least he didn't look angry at her any more, either.

"Thanks, Kusanagi," she told him gratefully, taking a step towards him and then stopping when the files she had been carrying slipped from her fingers and scattered across the floor.

"Oh crap!" she exclaimed and hurriedly bent down to retrieve them.

"Here," Kusanagi offered, "let me do that."

That was a mistake for as he bent down to gather them up, Momiji straightened to move out of his way and the back of her head collided with his face. _SMACK!!_ Kusanagi cursed loudly, jerking back and put his hand to his forehead.

"Oww!" Momiji muttered, gingerly rubbing the back of her head and then, when she glanced at Kusanagi, she saw green blood trickling from his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! Let me see -"

She dropped her bags to the ground and scurried forward, but he stopped her with an outstretched hand.

"It's okay," he told her, "it's nothing, Momiji. You must have cut me with your barrette."

Momiji put her hand to the back of her head and touched the barrette she used to pull her hair away from her face. It was fairly small; shaped like a row of several flowers, but they were hard and the petals had several sharp points on them.

"I'm so sorry, Kusanagi", she reiterated contritely, staring at him and wringing her hands together.

"It's okay," he reiterated, brushing it off. "Look," he said, removing his hand, "it's even stopped bleeding."

"Oh my gosh!" she said again, stepping even closer and staring at his forehead.

Kusanagi felt uneasiness slide through him at the look in her eye. It reminded him of the thermometer incident and as she stepped towards him, he took a wary step back.

"Kusanagi, it's really swelling," she said fretfully, pointing to his head.

"Well, your head is _really_ hard, Princess, so I don't doubt that it's swelling," he replied sardonically, smiling a bit when he saw a flash of irritation in her green eyes.

Momiji refused to let him bait her though, as she clamped down on her temper. After all, it was her fault that he had gotten hurt.

"Let me get some ice for you," she murmured helpfully and turned towards the kitchen.

"NO!" Kusanagi cried unexpectedly, suddenly grabbing her arm. His reaction startled her, making her visibly jump and she stopped, her green eyes wide as she looked back at him. "I can do that for myself, Momiji," he told her and moved past her to stand in the kitchen door. "You go ahead and take care of your…things."

He pointed to her bags and the papers still scattered across the floor, and Momiji looked down at them before turning to give him an uncertain look.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help –"

"Stop treating me like a child," he exclaimed in aggravation, "If I forget how to open the refrigerator, Princess, then you'll be the first person I call."

And then he turned without another word and stalked into the kitchen. Momiji stood there blinking at the empty doorway, her mouth left hanging open at his rapid change of moods. She finally gave herself a slight shake and bent to retrieve her things. With a frown, she hurriedly shoved all of the papers and pictures back into the folder without taking the time to sort through them.

"Fine, Mr. Kusanagi," she muttered, viciously slapping one page on top of another. "See if I care," she huffed, clambering to her feet and then stomping towards the stairs. "I hope you get freezer burn on your forehead!"

Momiji clomped up the stairs and into her room, muttering to herself all the way. Once there, she slumped tiredly across the bed after putting her things away and fidgeted to find a relaxing position. Unable to get comfortable, she rolled over onto her back and stared crossly up at the ceiling. She was getting a headache, she thought irritably. And whose fault was that? Kusanagi's, of course!

Restless, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. What she needed was a nice, long, hot bath. She hadn't had a bath since before she had had her accident, she mused and it would be nice to soak in the tub for a while. Feeling less fractious already, Momiji grabbed her robe and headed for the bathroom.

She met Kusanagi in the hallway coming up the stairs on the way to his room, a plastic bag of ice cubes clutched to his forehead. Momiji briefly glared at him and then stuck her nose in the air as she silently sailed past him, missing the wicked smile on Kusanagi's face as he watched her go into the bathroom.

Kusanagi slowly walked past the bathroom door, and his smile broadened. It was time for his little act of revenge to play itself out. He laughed softly to himself and went into his room to wait, greatly anticipating Momiji's reaction when she discovered what he had done.

Damn Susano-oh to hell! Tamanasu stopped and looked around in the darkness, his red eyes glowing like hot coals. He was so close. He could feel it, but now that the sun had gone down, the temperature had fallen even faster. He had already made four kills, but it wasn't enough, and even now he needed more energy.

Things would be so much simpler if he could just travel underground until he caught up with the child and its mother. But he could only track their scent above ground, and if they changed direction while he was below, he would have no way of knowing until he resurfaced, and then he would have lost precious time. Tamanasu hesitated, his desire to capture the child urging him onwards, but he knew that he could not catch them before his energy ran out. He was going to have to make another kill. But this time, he would look for a strong life stream.

The wind gusted against Tamanasu and he shivered as he located his next target. Knowing the general direction of his prey, he burrowed underground, trying to conserve his energy until he was close enough to make the kill. There were two of them, he saw with relish as he resurfaced; an adolescent boy and girl locked in a tight embrace. Tamanasu's breath rattled in his throat as he laughed softly to himself. Their combined energy might be just the thing that would allow him to catch up to the child. He would have liked to have taken his time and savored each kill, he thought regretfully, but he was in a hurry.

With a running leap, he was on them, his arm stretching like elastic so that his claws pierced the boy's chest and pinned him up against a tree as he grabbed the girl by her head and proceeded to feed of her soul's energy. The boy wriggled, blood spilling from his mouth as he sought to free himself, but Tamanasu ignored him, caught up in the pulsating flow of the girl's soul as its sweetness sang through his veins.

When he had savored the last of it, he carelessly discarded her. Her body landed at a crooked angle inches from his clawed toes, and Tamanasu turned his attention to the boy. He closed the distance between them, his claws still holding him against the tree. Tamanasu leaned his head near the boy's face and saw the terror and despair well up in his eyes. An evil smile spread across Tamanasu's face, his mitama glowing with renewed energy and his red eyes alight with his twisted pleasure.

"How pathetic you humans are; not even strong enough to defend those that are important to you" he sneered, his voice a death rattle in his throat. "Did it bother you to watch her die? Did you see how easily she succumbed to my power?" Tamanasu kept looking into the boy's eyes, and he slowly reached up with his free hand and grabbed the boy's head. "Time for you to die, and for me to gain ultimate power," his hissed, triumph coursing through him as the boy's soul filled his veins.

Now he could close the distance between himself and the child, his strength at its maximum level. Tamanasu wasted no more time. He carelessly flung the boy next to the body of the girl and stretched his limbs, becoming more powerful. With a quick lunge he was off and running, barely noticing the cold wind as it buffeted past him. The scent was becoming stronger and he lowered his head to become even faster; a shadowed blur moving between the trees. It wouldn't be long now.

Hikaru moaned loudly and doubled over in pain as another heavy labor pain grabbed her around the middle. Kaede stopped, her arm tightening around the girl to help support her, and she looked worriedly over her shoulder in the darkness. It was closing in. She could feel it, and they still had quite a ways to go before they reached the iwatto.

"Do you think you can keep going?" Kaede asked Hikaru as the pain passed and she slumped against Kaede.

"I- y-yes," Hikaru panted weakly, "yes, I think so."

They weren't safe out in the open like this, Kaede fretted, even as she felt remorse wash through her at having to push Hikaru. But if they could make it to the iwatto, then Kaede's powers would be maximized and she would be in a better position to defend Hikaru.

"I'm sorry, Hikaru," Kaede apologized softly, "I just want to try to keep you safe. It's just a little farther now."

As the words left her mouth, Kaede felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and she let go of Hikaru, twisting around to see a shadow springing towards them.

"It's here!" Kaede screamed.

She stepped in front of Hikaru, her palms facing out in front of her. The crystal mitama on her chest began to glow brightly, almost blindingly and a surge of white hot energy spiraled out from each of her hands, crisscrossing in front of her to form one stream. It struck the lunging shadow just inches from her body and illuminated Tamanasu as he was thrown backwards in a howl of pain.

He was briefly immobilized by the blast, the purity of Kaede's energy eroding his power and strength. He cursed and writhed but was unable to free himself. He had failed again, he thought as darkness rapidly closed in on him, and the souls he had fed upon were freed from his mitama. But just before the last vestiges of his strength were wiped away, the onslaught abruptly ended.

He was still in the Over World, he realized numbly, his senses warping from weakness. Before he lost consciousness, he raised his head, his glowing, red-slitted eyes focusing with hatred on the dark headed woman with the crystal mitama. She must have been sent by Susano-oh to stop him, for her power was incredible. But Tamanasu allowed himself a triumphant smile. Despite her power, she hadn't been able to drain all of his strength and send him back to the Withered Kingdom. That meant he could still accomplish what he had set out to do. You have not defeated me yet, came his last thought as darkness engulfed his consciousness.

Kaede stood panting and weak, completely drained for the moment as she stared at the still, deformed figure of the Tengugaki.

"Is it dead?" Hikaru asked her.

"No," Kaede replied breathlessly, catching Hikaru by the arm and moving her urgently away from it, "I can't summon enough energy out here to kill it. That's why we need to keep going," she explained "Not far from here is an iwatto similar to the one where you awoke. If we can make it there, I think I can destroy it. But we must hurry. It will regain consciousness shortly and be on the hunt for energy. We need to get to the iwatto before that happens."

Hikaru nodded her head and did her best to move swiftly, but still their progress was slower than Kaede would have liked, because of Hikaru's frailty and the labor pains that were coming closer and closer together.

"My lord," Kaede whispered almost frantically, as they were forced to stop yet again, "is there nothing more that we can do?"

"Aaahhh," Momiji sighed blissfully as she wrapped her robe around her body and left the bathroom, a serene smile on her face.

What a good idea that had been, she told herself enthusiastically as she padded back to her bedroom. After a quick shower, she had climbed into a tub filled with bath salts and allowed herself a leisurely soak. Now her headache was gone and her body was completely relaxed.

She wasn't even angry at Kusanagi anymore, she realized indulgently.

In fact, she was so relaxed that all she wanted to do was put her pajamas on, snuggle up in bed and go to sleep. Momiji took her robe off, slid her nightgown over her head, and then, humming softly to herself, opened the drawer to get a clean pair of underwear. Suddenly she stopped humming and her body stiffened as she stared disbelievingly down at the empty drawer. Quickly, she opened all the other drawers and rifled through them, but she couldn't find a single pair.

Where were they? What could have possibly happened to? – and then she stopped in mid thought, her mouth tightening in fury as she realized exactly what had happened to them, or rather who had happened to them. Momiji spun on her heel and stomped out of her room.

"Kusanagi!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

Kusanagi could plainly hear Momiji through his closed door, and a smile inched across his face. He quickly left the desk where he had been making some minor revisions to his portfolio and sprinted across the room. Grabbing up the bag of ice that he had left sitting on his pillow, he stretched out across his bed, plopping it on his forehead as he quickly closed his eyes. He opened them just seconds later when he heard his door crash violently against the wall and saw a very choleric Momiji standing in the doorway.

Kusanagi had a hard time containing the chuckle that threatened to burst forth as his eyes swept over her. Her face was scrunched up into a frown, her hands were fisted at her sides, and her eyebrows were drawn into a straight line over furiously sparkling, green eyes.

She was ire personified: a proud Valkyrie about to choose her next victim. Except that it was hard to take her seriously, dressed as she was in fluffy pink and grey kittens. Somehow, Kusanagi doubted very seriously that any real Valkyrie would be caught dead wearing kittens of any kind. And now that Kusanagi thought about it, Momiji looked more like the kittens she was wearing than a Valkyrie warrior anyway; soft and cuddly, but dangerous when riled.

Kusanagi quickly closed his eyes again despite his desire to keep looking at her, afraid that if he didn't, his expression would give everything away.

Momiji steamed into the room and stopped just inside the doorway, making all kinds of angry noises as her eyes settled on the fully dressed figure of Kusanagi stretched out on his bed. His eyes were shut, she noted resentfully, and a bag of slushy ice was lying against his forehead. His position suggested that he didn't feel well, but there was a slight smile tipping the corners of his mouth that told Momiji that he knew very well why she was here.

"Kusanagi!" she hissed through clenched teeth, chugging towards the bed.

If only she had her wooden spoon with her, she thought angrily. She would beat that smile right off his face! As it was, she was ready to tear into him with her bare hands.

Until she saw the picture he had placed in a frame sitting on the nightstand, that is. She looked at it, and stopped short, surprise momentarily displacing her anger.

It was the picture of her in the park with Puck. The same picture that she had found lying on the floor that morning when she had woken up in Kusanagi's bed. He had snatched it away from her then, like he hadn't wanted her to see it; and yet, here it was, sitting out in the open - and in a silver frame, no less.

Despite her surprise, Momiji winced as she gazed at it, hating the bedraggled way she looked, and she wondered why he would choose such a horrible picture to frame.

"Kusanagi?" she murmured, puzzled. All the anger was gone from her voice now, and Kusanagi cracked an inquisitive eye open to look at her. "That picture," she continued, pointing at the nightstand, "it's such a - why were you? – I thought that you didn't – that is, why would you want to frame that particular picture?"

He removed the bag of ice from his forehead and turned his head to cast a fleeting glance at the picture before shifting his eyes back to her. "That picture epitomizes you. It's how I see you, Momiji."

"It is?" She was completely taken aback by his statement.

Momiji's green eyes glazed over with dismay as she stared at her muddied appearance in the photograph. Was this truly how he saw her? All grubby and grimy; looking worse than a drowned rat? Ugghh! What a lowering thought!

"I didn't realize that you thought of me like – that," she said in a rather depressed manner. "I really don't know what to say," she mumbled dejectedly. "I didn't realize how…unattractive… I must seem to you."

There was a short silence as Kusanagi looked from her glum face to the picture and back to her face again.

"Is that what you see, Momiji?" he asked somewhat quizzically, rolling over onto his side to better see the silver frame, trying to discern what it was that she saw.

He was studying it so carefully and with such intensity, that Momiji wondered exactly what he saw when he looked at it.

"You're not unattractive in that picture, Momiji," he contradicted. "Although, I suppose you are pretty wet and dirty," he conceded in a considering way, "but that's not really what I notice when I look at it," he told her, his gaze swinging back to her as he propped his elbow on his pillow and leaned his head against his hand.

Unaware of his gaze, Momiji glanced back at the picture and wondered how in the world he could _not_ notice how unattractive and dirty she was. That's all she was in this picture, she thought dispiritedly; ugly, wet and dirty. And the longer she looked at it, the worse she looked.

"Do you want to know what I see when I look at it?" he asked her softly but hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably as he studied her profile.

Momiji wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. Startled, she turned in his direction to find his cat-like eyes resting unwaveringly on her. It was plain to see that his own question had made him uneasy, for not only was it written in the wariness of his eyes, but it was also apparent in the stiffness of his expression.

Momiji hesitated before she answered, waiting for him to withdraw his offer, but he didn't. He just continued to gaze at her, in an oddly tense sort of way, waiting for her to respond. And so Momiji mutely nodded her head, afraid that if she spoke, he might change his mind after all and decide not to tell her.

Kusanagi sat up restlessly and swung his feet over the side of the bed as his eyes slid back to the photograph. He reached out and, with a gloved hand, plucked it from the nightstand to stare down at it, so he wouldn't have to look at Momiji.

"When I look at this picture, Momiji, I see many things," he told her quietly. "I see a child whose wonder at nature never ceases, and a girl whose green eyes reflect the depth of her kindness and gentleness. I also see a young woman who is always more than willing to spare a smile for others; even if she feels nothing but sorrow herself, and a human being who believes that even the lowliest of creatures is worth saving, regardless of the cost to her own well-being. But mostly what I see, is a princess who gives her heart too easily, willing to settle for imperfection, when she should have the world at her feet."

As he finished speaking a claustrophobic look crossed Kusanagi's face, and his body tensed. He was not emotionally equipped to deal with the situation he had just put himself in and he wished he had never opened his mouth. He was feeling extremely exposed and somehow defenseless; having revealed some of his innermost thoughts that, as far as he was concerned, should have remained unspoken.

And now that the words were out, he found that all he wanted to do was deny them, feeling that his admission somehow made him weak; more susceptible to… to what? Being hurt? Feeling insecure?

They were novel feelings, and even as he struggled with them, Kusanagi knew that he had had no other choice. When he had seen that miserable look on Momiji's face, he had found that he couldn't maintain his silence. For his own comfort, he would never have told her, but for the sake of her happiness, he was willing to try and make her understand.

But, he thought to himself with a shaky grimace, if feeling like this was what it was like to try and make her happy, he didn't know if he had the strength to do it.

Not that he had made a decision about giving up his obligation to maintain his distance, he hastily reminded himself. He still couldn't decide whether or not he should maintain his old obligation, or if he should give in to his desire and allow himself to have her. But still, he refused to let his indecisiveness on the issue to be the cause of her unhappiness, and so he had tried to put into words, some of the thoughts that he had kept locked inside for so long.

Damn, but this was hard! he thought, still staring down at the picture to avoid looking at her. He needed to do something, he decided, feeling desperate, to draw her attention away from him. And then the solution became obvious as he remembered the reason that she was here, and his discomfort started to fade, anticipation taking its place.

The silence lengthened as Momiji just stared at Kusanagi, her mouth hanging open, flabbergasted. His words had touched her, made her somehow feel special, and yet she was reeling from what he had said, unused to such… intimacy of thought… from him. She watched him quietly put the picture back on the nightstand, his gaze lingering on it for a moment longer before he turned back to her. She noted an immediate change in him, his unease of the moment suddenly gone, replaced by an odd gleam in his eyes.

"Was there some reason you came in here to see me, Princess?" he asked with a quirk to his lips.

Kusanagi's words jarred Momiji out of her dumbfounded state and she quivered with suppressed rage as she once again recalled the reason for her visit to his room.

"As a matter of fact, there is," she replied, a steely note creeping into her voice, "I want to know what you did with my – " she abruptly stopped, and her face flooded with color while Kusanagi watched with keen interest.

"Your what?" he inquired expectantly.

"My – my – my –" she stammered.

"Okay, I got that part," he informed her amusedly, "now I just need the rest of it to know what the heck you're talking about."

Momiji made a frustrated noise and stomped her foot. "You know very well what I'm talking about, Mamoru Kusanagi!" she retorted accusingly, "I'm talking about my – my – my -"

"There you go again," he inserted before she finally managed to sputter out:

"_MY PANTIES_!!" she all but screamed at him, her chest heaving up and down in aggravation.

There was a long pause.

"You're panties?" he echoed mildly, his eyebrows soaring, watching, with secret amusement, as her temper flared even higher.

"Yes, you fat-head! _My pantiesr_! There missing," she seethed, "as if you didn't know. And I want to know what you did with them!" And when he didn't say anything, she leaned forward, her hands balled into fists at her sides, and commanded, "Tell me – _NOW_!"

He just chuckled softly, his enjoyment of her discomfiture only adding fuel to her ire.

"What makes you think I did something with them, Princess?" he asked nonchalantly, stretching back out on the bed, his head cushioned against his pillow.

While he waited for her to answer, he casually crossed his legs, repositioned the bag of ice on his forehead, and closed his eyes once more

"_Ggggrrrrr_!" Momiji growled, grinding her teeth at his insouciance, wanting to beat him upside the head with his slushy bag of ice. "I _know_, you did something with them," she persisted petulantly.

She stalked closer to the bed, and still he didn't say anything. He wouldn't even open his eyes and acknowledge her presence. He just lay there, with a sly little smile, apparently finding the entire situation highly entertaining.

But Momiji was far from feeling entertained. In fact, she had had more than enough. Swooping down on him, she snatched the ice off his forehead, planning on batting him over the head with it.

"Uh-uh-uh," he murmured lazily, one eye popping open as she got ready to swing the bag, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Especially if you want to find out what happened to your… _panties_."

Momiji froze in mid-swing and Kusanagi's smile took on a cat-like quality, as he continued to toy with her.

Momiji let her arm drop to her side. "Okay," she replied quietly and with exaggerated calmness, "I'm won't hit you."

"Good."

Kusanagi grinned and put his arms beneath his head as he watched her struggle to keep from exploding. Momiji closed her eyes and took several calming breaths and then opened them again to focus on Kusanagi. "So tell me, then," she muttered calmly, but through clenched teeth.

"Tell you what?" he asked just to infuriate her further and his gaze flipped to the ceiling.

"Kusanagi!!!!! "

"Okay, okay. I _might_ be persuaded to tell you," he finally murmured, looking directly at her now, "_if_ you go and get me some more ice." He pointed to the bag in her hand. "Most of what's in there has melted."

Momiji shot him a suspicious look, and he gave her a provocative smile.

"But you don't really need it," she complained, "most of the swelling is gone now."

"Do you want to know about your panties, or not, Princess?"

"Yes!"

"Well then –" he waved his hand at her, motioning her towards the door, "go and get me some ice."

Momiji spun around and huffed her way towards the door. When she reached it she stopped and slanted him a look over her shoulder. "This had better not be a trick!" she muttered.

As soon as she was gone, Kusanagi was up again. He moved with feline stealth across the room and out into the hallway, pausing at the top of the stairs to make sure that Momiji couldn't see him before he slunk into her room. He needed to do one more thing to make this the perfect plan, he thought, moving purposefully towards the hamper where Momiji kept her dirty clothes.

Unaware of Kusanagi's machinations, Momiji went down to the kitchen and dumped the slushy ice out into the sink. With hurried motions, she went over to the refrigerator, opened up the ice box and began scooping ice cubes out of the dispenser. As she hastily shoved the cubes into the bag, filling it full, her eyes flitted absently over the contents in the freezer before swinging the door closed again.

Her attention was completely focused on returning to Kusanagie's room and she turned to go upstairs. She made it half way across the kitchen before she suddenly jerked to a stop, what she had seen in the ice box finally registering. Stunned, she turned and slowly re-crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator. With a yank, she pulled the freezer door open, her green eyes going immediately to a mountainous blob sitting at the bottom. With a gasp, she dropped the bag of ice she was carrying and went to her knees.

"That…that…_BONEHEAD_!" she muttered furiously to herself.

Not only had he put her panties in the freezer, but he had wet them before putting them in there, so that they were now a solid block of ice. Momiji's mouth thinned into an angry line, as she wrapped her fingers around the mound of panties and began tugging with all her might.

"_H-H-rr-aa-hhh-gg_!" she grunted, straining to pull them free, and let out a surprised squeak when they suddenly came loose.

Momiji bounced backwards, skidding across the floor, and lost her grip on the giant cube of panties at the same time as she put her hands out to maintain her balance. They fell to the floor with a sharp snapping noise and the large block broke apart into smaller chunks. Momiji scuttled forward on her hands and knees and picked them up. Once she had them all, she dumped them in the sink and turned the water on, trying to thaw them out.

After a few minutes she shut the water off and picked up a pair of frigid, soggy panties with little bunnies on them, staring mournfully at them. She couldn't wear any of these, she thought. It was late, and she was tired and even if she put them in the dryer now, there was no telling how long it would take them to thaw out and dry.

What was she going to do now? she asked herself, and then her fingers tightened around the limp bunnies in her hand. She knew exactly what she was going to do, she thought, her spine stiffening as she marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She was going to make Kusanagi pay for what he had done! That was what she was going to do!

But first, she told herself as she veered towards her own room, she was going to get the panties that she had taken off before her shower and put them on. That way, she wouldn't be left feeling quite so… drafty and exposed. Momiji scurried over to the hamper and reached inside, an arrested expression crossing her face. She leaned over even further, swishing her arm around inside, and came up with the same results. It was empty. Momiji's green eyes widened in alarm.

"They're gone!" she breathed incredulously, "how could they be? –"

She snapped her mouth shut. Of course they were gone. Kusanagi would have confiscated those as well. Oh, he must think he's so clever, Momiji fumed silently. Well, he wasn't going to get away with this!

Kusanagi heard Momiji come into his room and he fought to keep the smile off his face. She was so angry with him, and yet she looked so adorable. He had resumed his reclining position long before she had returned uptstairs, his hands beneath his head as he lazily watched her stalk over to him, a pout firmly entrenched on her face.

"You forgot my ice cubes, Princess," he pointed out in his most provoking manner.

"Here," Momiji retorted caustically, "you can use these instead!"

The next thing he knew, she had flung something at him and it smacked him squarely across the face. He felt a stinging cold cut across his face and his vision was suddenly obscured by what he concluded was most likely a pair of her frozen panties. Moving casually, he reached up with long fingers, grabbed the soggy cold wetness, and lifted it from his face, looking at it as he did so. He transferred his gaze to Momiji's furious demeanor then and gave her a wicked grin.

"I see you found them." he chuckled.

"You – you –" Momiji sputtered incoherently.

"I told you I would have my revenge for when I was sick, Princess. You really shouldn't be all that surprised."

"You- you – you beast! – you – you- give me! - I want! - " she babbled furiously and his grin widened.

"Are you trying to tell me that you want these?" he asked holding out the pair of panties that he had stolen from the hamper.

Momiji's mouth tightened and she lunged for them, but much to her frustration Kusanagi put them out of her reach by tucking them beneath his body.

"I don't think so, Princess," he shook his head and continued, "since this is my plot for revenge, returning what I have worked so hard to obtain is not only insane, but also out of the question."

Momiji shifted agitatedly from one foot to the other. She guessed she could go without wearing them until morning, but she would much rather not have to. She had never slept without her panties before, and the thought was not really all that appealing. Maybe if she tried changing her tactics, she could get them back.

"Come on, Kusanagi," she wheedled, "you've had you're fun, now give them back."

She held her hand out expectantly but he just shook his head, a smug smile stretched across his lips. She was getting alarmed now. She really wanted them back.

"But, Kusanagi,: she hastily blurted out without thinking, "if you don't give them to me, I won't have any – " She abruptly stopped, feeling humiliated.

"To wear?" he asked, picking up where she left off. "Of course you will," he assured her, reaching beneath his pillow to deliver his coup de grâce.

Momiji just stared motionless at the flimsy pink silk grasped between Kusanagi's gloved fingers and felt her ears start to burn.

"Well," he prompted, "aren't you going to take them?"

"A- a thong?" she managed to choke out, "you want me to wear a _thong_?"

"Sure, why not?" he replied lazily, twirling the thong around on the end of his finger, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

"I – I can't wear those!" she informed him in no uncertain terms.

Kusanagi's face fell in exaggerated disappointment. "Why not?" he demanded.

"Because…" Momiji thought furiously and the only thing she could come up with was a mumbled, "because they'll…chafe."

Kusanagi tried. He really did. But he couldn't keep the hilarious laughter from bursting out. He laughed and laughed until he could feel tears starting to his eyes, and then he lifted his hand and used the thong to wipe his eyes.

"Chafe?" he replied still chucking, "really, Princess! Can't you come up with something better than that?"

Momiji just scowled at him. "No," she replied shortly, "and you don't really expect me to wear them now that you've rubbed your face all over them, do you?"

Kusanagi smiled indulgently at her. "I didn't expect you to wear them at all, Momiji," he told her, "I knew that you wouldn't want to wear them, but" he heaved a breezy sigh and looked at the soft pink silk before letting his gaze slide slyly back to her, "when I saw them, I couldn't help but think how… perfect… they would look on you."

Perfect? Momiji looked away and fidgeted shyly as her fingers wrapped themselves in the soft folds of her gown, unsure of how exactly she should respond to him. She knew he was teasing her, but there was a part of her that couldn't help but wish that he was serious.

And just what would you do if he was serious? A little voice inside her head asked. Turn tail and run, probably, she thought ironically.

"Oh well," Kusanagi murmured resignedly, breaking into her thoughts, "I guess it's a good thing that I bought these then," he told her as he whipped out a plain white pair of silk panties with a little pink bow on the front. "You see, despite my need for revenge, I didn't truly wish you to suffer – at least not that much," he added softly.

He held them out and she reached for them but at the last minute he snatched them away again, not yet done with his game.

"Uh-uh. I'm afraid it's not that easy. First you're going to have to ask me nicely for them."

Momiji reared back and glared at him. "Why should I have to ask you nicely for them when you froze all of my other ones solid!?"

"Okay," he told her unrelentingly, "if you don't want them, I'll just put them right under here." He slid them beneath his pillow and folded his arms over his chest. "They're staying put until you ask me nicely for them."

Momiji responded by poking him in the side with her finger and demanding imperiously. "Give them to me!"

Kusanagi grunted at the pressure from the sudden thrust to his side, but remained unmoving

"Say please," he commanded in a silky way.

"NO!"

"Then you're not getting them, Princess. But here," he said and he flung the silk thong at her, "you can have these instead."

The thong hit Momiji softly in the nose before fluttering to the floor like a large, pink butterfly where, with a glare, she watched it land.


	16. 15: Dreamer Awakened

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"That's it," Momiji muttered through clenched teeth and she pounced on Kusanagi's pillow, trying to get her hand beneath it. "If you won't give them to me, then I'll just get them myself!"

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Princess," he chided softly.

Before Momiji knew what was happening she felt herself being lifted off of her feet. Kusanagi wrapped one hand around her arm and the other around her waist and yanked, flipping her around onto her back on top of the bed, her head now resting on the pillow where his had been just seconds before. Without touching her, he quickly straddled her body with is knees and stared down into her green eyes widened with surprise, a seductive smile spreading across his face.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he tutted, "when will you learn that you can't bully your way around me, Princess? I'm a lot bigger and stronger than you."

"Your head is a lot thicker too!" she fumed and quickly reached up, her hand burrowing underneath the pillow, feeling around for the panties.

Kusanagi promptly leaned forward, his face coming closer to hers as he grabbed her hand, pulling it out from underneath the pillow and pinning it to the mattress. He was close enough to smell the scent that clung to her skin from her bath and it enveloped his senses. God, but she smelled good, he groaned to himself; like honeysuckle and rain.

He could feel himself beginning to lose focus, his desire starting to take over as he struggled to maintain control of not only his body but Momiji's body as well. She might be small, but she was a scrappy fighter and she was squirming beneath him, trying to get her arm free from his grasp. Kusanagi gave a low laugh at the scowl on her face.

"Give it up, Princess," he advised, although he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was far from through.

Momiji scowled even harder at him, her mouth scrunching up and her eyes sparkling brightly. Give up? No way! She would show him, she thought fiercely. She was not a quitter, and she wasn't about to let him win! With a snort, she reached up with her other hand, but she didn't even make it to the pillow before that one was captured as well.

She might not be a quitter, but she wasn't a good strategist either, she grumbled sheepishly to herself.

That and she couldn't count, she thought reproachfully, for any fool could have seen what was going to happen.

She had two hands; he had two hands, and his hands were bigger and stronger. _Duh_! And now she had no one to blame but herself for her current predicament.

Momiji squirmed against his hold, even though she knew it was futile. The unperturbed look on Kusanagi's face at her efforts spurred her on, making her wish that she was at least strong enough to make it _a little _difficult for him to contain her. She grunted and pulled, glared and scowled, and despite her best efforts, he did nothing but stare down unconcernedly at her, an amused smile on his face. Finally, she stopped, panting from exertion, having worn herself out completely, and she just lay there, gazing resentfully up into the cat-like eyes just inches above her own.

"What are you going to do now, Princess?" he challenged with a smile. "Or are you finished now?" he asked her softly, staring into her smoldering green eyes. "All you have to do is say, please." His voice was almost a whisper as he involuntarily let his eyes slip down to gaze hungrily at the softness of her lips. "Say please, and I'll give them to you."

The flare of desire in Kusanagi's eyes made Momij's heart race, and a pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. She watched, mesmerized as he slowly leaned forward, coming even closer to her, his eyes locking with hers as he murmured yet again.

"Say, please."

Momiji heard the words, but they lost their meaning as she continued to stare up at him. He was barely an inch away, and she wished that he would close the distance between them. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, and his words suddenly took on a whole new meaning.

Her eyes softened with longing, and she heard herself whisper, "Please, Kusanagi."

"There," he replied, his fingers, rather than releasing her, tightened on her wrists, and his breath fanned across her cheek, as he drew even nearer. He closed his eyes to the warning bells going off in his head and let his lips brush lightly against hers as he murmured, "that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Momiji's eyes fluttered closed at the feel of his lips against hers and she sighed softly against them. Kusanagi immediately deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth, eager to taste more of her. He let go of her wrists so he could cup her face and Momiji's hands crept around to the back of his neck, clinging to him as she felt an intoxicating heat steal over.

Kusanagi's breathing rapidly deteriorated, becoming ragged as his mouth slanted over hers again and again and his body tightened with his need for her. Soon, he wasn't satisfied with just kissing her. He wanted more; he needed more, but the warning bells were sounding even louder.

Just a little more, he whispered persuasively to himself, and he let his fingers trail away from her face, to the buttons at the neck of her nightgown. There weren't that many, and with deft movements, he slid the buttons free, sliding the top of her nightgown open so he could touch her skin. Desperately, his mouth trailed after his fingers, finding the valley between her breasts, as, through the soft flannel of the nightgown, he cupped her breasts with his hands.

Momiji sucked in her breath as she felt Kusanagi fingers caress her breasts, his mouth setting fire to her skin as he kissed her neck and chest, and she arched against him, her fingers clutched tightly in his greenish black hair.

She inflamed his senses, tasting so sweetly of spring and innocence, and Kusanagi wanted even more. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he couldn't summon up the strength to turn back. Just a little more, he induced himself.

Shifting slightly, Kusanagi reached down and tugged at the hem of her nightgown, sliding it upwards to her knees. Still straddling her body, he planted one of his knees between her legs, and let his fingers trail up the silky softness of her calf, past her knee and higher, shifting inwards and slowing, but not stopping as he reached her upper thigh.

Momiji stiffened at his touch and her natural response was to immediately clench her legs closed, but his knee prevented that. Feeling her unease, Kusanagi's hand halted its forward motion, his lips returning to hers, and he covered her with gentle kisses, until he felt her body relax.

Just a little more. That was all.

He wanted all of her, but he knew that he couldn't take what he wanted. So he would settle for just a little more. Slowly, he again let his fingers slide upwards, reaching the apex of her thighs and he touched her, his fingers slowly stroking against the heart of her femininity.

Momiji stiffened, and gasped in alarm having never been touched so intimately before.

"K-kusanagi?" she whispered timidly, and felt his lips move against her ear as a strange tension began to coil inside her body from the movement of his fingers against her.

"Shhhh. Just close your eyes, Momiji," he murmured soothingly into her ear, his fingers still touching her, caressing her, wanting to bring her pleasure.

Momiji 's eyes drifted closed and she arched her body against him, the sweet tension growing to an almost unbearable level. Kusanagi felt the slick heat start to flow from her, and with a groan slid his fingers deeper into her, showing her what he longed to do with his body as she began to move restlessly against his hand.

Oh god, he thought closing his eyes in torment. He was so aroused that he could hardly stand it. He needed more. He had to have more, and without conscious thought, he slid his body between her legs and reached for the buttons on his jeans.

Just then, the phone rang; a loud jarring sound shrill with warning, and Kusanagi stopped what he was doing.

Dear god! came the voice of his rattled conscience. Just what the hell did he think he'd been doing anyway? it asked him in alarm as sanity once again returned with the cacophonous sound of the phone, and he pulled his hands out from beneath Momiji's nightgown. Kusanagi slowly opened his eyes and met Momiji's shy questioning gaze.

"You should probably answer that," he told her quietly, rolling over and sitting up, his gaze shifting to the nightstand to avoid looking at her. "It might be about Midori."

Momiji didn't say anything, but she scrambled to get the phone, snatching it off it's cradle to stammer out a stiff 'hello'.

"Momiji, is that you?" came Kunikida's voice and then, "is Kusanagi there? I need to speak with him. It's urgent."

Momiji shifted and held the phone out to Kusanagi, who still wasn't looking at her and mumbled, "It's for you," before climbing awkwardly off the bed, her cheeks shining bright with color.

Kusanagi took the phone from her and wandered restlessly to the window. He pulled back the curtain to look through the blinds, his back to Momiji, staying mostly silent as he listened to what Kunikida had to tell him. Momiji watched him for a second or two, his tense expression illuminated by a sudden flash of lightning and then reached under his pillow for the forgotten pair of silk panties. A storm is coming, she thought listening to the distant rumble of thunder as she hurriedly slid the white silk over her thighs while Kusanagi continued to stare out into the darkness of the night.

"Right," he finally said, his voice sounding harsh in the silence of the room, "I'll go and check it out."

And then he hung up and turned to face Momiji, a remote expression on his face.

"What is it?" Momiji wanted to know, trying to get past the awkwardness she was feeling. "Is it about Midori?"

"No," he told her broodingly, moving to put the phone back on its cradle before moving over to the closet to get his long black coat. "There's been a string of murders in the last five hours starting in Nima, stretching through Taki and moving towards Izumo. So far there have been at least sixteen reported deaths; but there's probably at least half a dozen more that haven't been discovered yet. Kunikida says there's never been this many so close together. He thinks something big is about to happen and I agree with him."

Kusanagi shrugged into his coat and turned to face Momiji, his expression still distant.

"Where are you going?" Momiji asked apprehensive her gaze sliding to the window as she heard another rumble of thunder, this one closer than the last.

"Kunikida asked me to check it out," he replied, heading out of the room, "so that's where I'm going."

"Wait!" Momiji called after him, "let me go with you."

He stopped and turned at her words, and she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he quickly repressed it. "No, Momiji. I can travel faster if I'm by myself, and you need to stay here where it's safe."

"But, Kusanagi -" she began stepping towards him, only to be stopped by the unrelenting refusal in his voice.

"I said no, Momiji," he reiterated in a hard voice, and then, he looked away from her and said a little softer, "I'll come back as soon as I can."

Momiji didn't say anything else. She just watched him walk out of the room, standing where he had left her until she heard the front door open and close. Then she slowly left his room, walking across the hall to her own, and climbed in bed to curl up into a tight ball.

She shut her eyes, listening to the thunder and tried not to think about what had happened between them. He had been alarmed, he'd thought he'd made a mistake; she had read it in his eyes. And Momiji wondered if tonight would end up driving him farther away from her, as he tried to run from what had happened, to keep from feeling the things he was feeling. Momiji scrunched her eyes closed even tighter and rolled over, trying to push away her depressing thoughts. Let him run, came a small voice from somewhere near the region of her heart; all the paths he chooses can only lead to you.

A bitterly cold wind battered against Kusanagi and he felt himself being pulled off course by its strong currents. He paused in mid-flight, his coat whipping violently around his legs as he struggled to maintain his position and his figure was starkly illuminated by the purple flash of lightning against a sky heavy with storm clouds. He was somewhere between Taki and Izumo, and in serious danger of either being blown into a tree by the gale force winds, or being electrocuted by the frequent slashes of light ripping across the sky. This was nuts, he thought acerbically and swooped lower to the ground, scanning the area. Just what the hell was he doing out here anyway? he asked himself as he stared around in the darkness. What could he possibly hope to find when he couldn't use his mitamas to track the Tengugaki?

Turning away, he was about to give up when he heard the sound of a girl's terrified scream, and he sharply pulled up and changed direction, following its sound. Moving in a blur, he managed to clutch the young woman around the waist and pull her to safety.

Her body was quivering in fright as he alighted on the ground and released her, turning away and staring into the slitted-red eyes he was coming to know too well.

"Are you all right?" he asked over his shoulder without looking at her.

"Y-yes –"

"Then run like hell," he advised, "and don't stop until you find shelter."

Kusanagi didn't bother to look and see if she did as she was told. Instead, he immediately lunged at Tamanasu, intent on destroying him before he could kill again.

"I thought I smelled your putrid stench on the wind!" he snarled, unsheathing his blades and lunging, only to miss as Tamanasu quickly feinted around him.

"You'll pay for your interference, mongrel," Tamanasu hissed, the livid hatred on his face illuminated by a slash of lightning.

He bared his fangs stained by the blood of the animals he had been forced to feed upon in order to gain enough energy to search out human souls, and he let out a feral growl. Damn this human! Since losing most of his strength to the woman with the crystal mitama, he had only regained half of his power. Would it be enough to evade attack? It would have to be! Lowering his head, Tamanasu growled again and streaked towards Kusanagi.

Kusanagi crouched, readying himself for the onslaught and then whipped around in confusion as Tamanasu leaped over him and disappeared, the sound of thunder rolling him around him in waves

"What the hell!?" Kusanagi muttered, urgently searching the trees for Tamanasu's glowing, red eyes.

There was another rumble of thunder and as it died away, he heard the Tengugaki's low, guttural laugh carried on the wind. Kusanagi shot around, glancing upwards, into the boughs of the tree behind him. Tamanasu's mottled skin blended into the bark of the tree, but there was no mistaking the maleficent glow of the red eyes staring down at him through the barren branches.

"Come down here, you rotten bastard!" Kusanagi shouted in fury, his face cast into harsh relief by another fork of lightning.

"How I wish I could oblige you, Kusanagi," Tamanasu taunted, "but I have been given strict orders to spare your life for now. You should thank the gods for your good fortune this day. For I promise you, the next time we meet, not even the gods' favor will save you from me!"

Kusanagi growled and sprang from the ground, but Tamanasu was already gone by the time Kusanagi reached the limb where he'd been perched. Kusanagi flitted forward, intent on giving chase when he suddenly doubled over and fell from the air, incapacitated, his mitamas glowing brightly in the darkness.

"_Aaagh!_" he choked, his body drawing up in pain, and his mind reeling with fear, "No! - Momiji!"

He shouldn't have left her alone.

Another rumble of thunder accompanied by lightning rent the night and suddenly the glow faded and Kusanagi was able to stand. He clambered unsteadily to his feet, shaken and weak and stiffened in amazement when he felt soft snowflakes flutter against his face. "What the!?"

He put his hand out, and watched as the delicate white crystals settled against the black leather of his gloves, standing out in vivid contrast. "Snow during a thunderstorm?" he muttered, baffled, "what the hell is going on?"

"I can't!" Hikaru cried softly, propping up against the wall of the iwatto too tired to push anymore.

"Yes, you can," Kaede encouraged, "just one more good push, and then you can stop."

Hikaru shook her head, but as another pain tightened her abdomen, she bore down and pushed as hard as she could and was rewarded when she heard the high keening sound of her newborn baby. A weak but joyous smile spread across her face, and it was reflected by Kaede as she took the baby and held it close for a moment, knowing that she would never have the chance to hold a child of her own. Kaede's gaze slid to Hikaru and the wistfulness in her eyes was replaced by soft admiration for the young mother.

"You have a fine son, Hikaru," Kaede praised quietly, and she handed the baby to his mother, who cradled him close, her shaking hands smoothing the downy softness of his dark hair. "You must choose a worthy name for him."

Hikaru looked at the soft curve of her son's cheek as he nestled against her breast, and without hesitating, she murmured, "Noa. I will call him, Noa."

"Kushinada!"

Momij's eyes snapped open, and she jerked into a sitting position, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she listened to the thunder rumbling outside her window. She hadn't been asleep that long and the storm had yet to pass, she thought to herself. But that's not what had woken her.

Susano-oh had been calling to her.

Momiji turned her head and stared down at her clock without really seeing it.

It was time, she thought, as the darkened room was illuminated by the bright flicker of lightning, scattering light across her absorbed expression before being extinguished. Time to go; she told herself, but where?

The iwatto, came a voice from the back of her mind. And Momiji felt a sense of urgency wash over her. She must get to the iwatto as quickly as possible. Hurriedly she pushed the covers back and clambered out of bed. Without turning on the lights, she moved over to the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans. Hastily she pulled them on, hopping over to her dresser as she wriggled into them to grab a thick sweatshirt which was just as speedily dropped over her head.

Finished, she scurried over to the corner of her room and snatched up the bag of items she had purchased in Takachiho and then left her room. At the bottom of the stairs she absently shoved her feet into her shoes while she pulled on her coat, grabbed her keys and pocket book and then opened the front door.

"Good lord," she murmured.

Momiji stopped on the threshold, staring in wonder at the thick swirls of snow falling to the ground even as the sky was illuminated by long strokes of lightning. She listened in awe to the accompanying rumble of thunder and couldn't help but think of the one responsible.

"Susano-oh," she breathed.

But why? Pushing her question away, and knowing that she must hurry, she lowered her head and sprinted to her car, slipping and sliding on the thick layer of snow already settled upon the ground. Momiji started her car and pulled out onto the street. The sense of urgency was growing, but she could feel the tires of her car slipping against the road and knew that she must go slowly if she didn't want to end up in a ditch.

Murakumo's grey eyes snapped open. It had happened. He felt it in his souls. His child was here at last. Turning his head, Murakumo struggled to bring the dimly lit room into focus. It was night, but that human girl had left a small lamp burning on the computer desk in the corner. He needed to get up. He needed to follow his souls and find Hikaru and his child. But he felt so damned weak.

Murakumo rolled over on to his side and pushed himself up, gritting his teeth against the sudden rending sensation in his chest.

"_Grrr-raaa-hhh_!" came his strangled cry, and he hunched over and put his hand to his chest.

Murakumo closed his eyes and remained stationary until some of the pain subsided, panting heavily as he broke out into a cold sweat. He could hear the soft muffled sounds of hurried steps outside the room and knew that the human girl had heard him. He quickly opened his eyes and tried to sit up straight, unwilling to let her see his weakness.

The dark headed girl came crashing into the room dressed in a white cotton gown, a look of concern written across her nondescript features. Shock registered in her big brown eyes at seeing him sitting on the side of the bed, and she rushed forward.

"Geez! What are you doing?" she exclaimed, biting her lip and sliding to a stop in front of him, "you should be lying down," she told him firmly, "you're still not well!"

She was standing so close to him that he would be forced to look up if he wanted to see her face, something that he refused to do. It would be a cold day in hell before he looked up to any human, he told himself, and he kept his brooding gaze pinned to the voluminous folds of her cotton gown.

"Where are my clothes? I'm leaving," came his irascible response.

"What!?" Midori's mouth fell open. "You can't possibly think that you're well enough to get up!?"

The corners of Murakumo's mouth pulled down into a formidable frown. "Don't make me repeat myself, human!" he commanded imperiously, glaring at the pearl buttons on her gown.

"My name's Midori, not human," Midori told him tartly, "and your clothes were mostly shredded by that thing that attacked you."

In his mind there was a loud hissing noise as all the fires in hell were extinguished, and his head snapped up so that he could look into Midori's eyes.

"I don't care, _Midori_," he snarled, his grey eyes burning with fury, "get them now!"

Midori spun on her heel and crossed the room to stand in the door. She turned around again and crossed her arms in front of her, her temper causing color to rise to her cheeks as she frowned at Murakumo.

"They're in there," she responded peevishly, jerking her head in the direction of the closet, "and if you want them, then you can get up and get them yourself!"

Murakumo's grey eyes narrowed with fury as he stared at Midori. Never had he felt such a soul consuming rage at a human before. It confused his senses, clouding his judgment and he couldn't seem to distance himself from it.

To Murakumo, most humans were disgustingly vile, selfish creatures; too far beneath him to really spare any emotion on except for the dispassionate hatred he had for them. But this flighty human; she baffled him as much as she enraged him. He didn't understand the way she thought; the motivations that lay behind her actions. If she knew that he was Aragami, why had she tried to help him? And why did she not fear him?

Midori glared belligerently at the haughty look on Murakumo's handsome face, but her anger gave way to alarm as she saw him push away from the bed, his pale face becoming even whiter as he swayed on his feet, the pain standing out in his steel grey eyes.

"You stubborn, foolish man!" she reproved in a low tone, rushing to his side to take his arm in order to keep him from falling.

"Let go of me, you imperfect being!" he hissed at her, trying to jerk his arm free of her hold, and then added, "and I am not a man. I am king of the Aragami!"

Midori was reluctant to let him go. She knew what was going to happen when she did. But she could see that he was too proud to acknowledge his own weakness unless she let him falter.

Sighing to herself, she opened her fingers and pulled her arm back, saying acerbically, "All right, your highness. Have it your way!" and then watched him crumple to the floor, face down, too weak to stand any longer.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed in a hoarse voice.

His collision with the floor jarred his chest and created such a wave of pain that he thought he would pass out. He put his hand to his chest, a horrible grimace twisting his features as he fought to breathe. He was dimly aware that the dark headed girl had joined him on the floor, laying on her stomach next to him so she could see his face.

He weakly turned his head and stared into her soft brown eyes and felt frustration well up inside of him.

"Why am I so weak?" he demanded faintly and closed his eyes.

Midori suddenly felt very sorry for him and she reached out and smoothed a raven lock of hair away from his cheek. His eyes flickered open at her touch, and she saw that he was more than surprised that she would touch him in such a way. He looked like he wasn't sure of what to make of her gesture, so she withdrew her hand before he decided he should be angry.

"Why?" he repeated, his grey eyes unwavering on her face, "I should not be this weak. My body has strong recuperative powers. I should have regained all of my strength long before now –"

"It's your mitama," Midori explained, "one of the mitamas on your chest was damaged during your fight with that monster at the iwatto."

Murakumo looked like he didn't want to believe her. "The hell you say," he muttered. He slowly rolled over onto his side and put his hand to his chest, pulling aside the robe to stare down at the blue mitamas. "No," he murmured in denial even as he saw the small fissures crisscrossing the surface of the lowermost mitama in his chest. "No," he repeated again, touching the mitama with his finger and tracing the forced grooves along its once smooth surface.

It would die, he thought. Once damaged, they always did, and his power would no longer be balanced.

"It's better than it was," Midori assured him desperately, wanting to erase the look of disquiet in his eyes.

His eyes slid to her, hardening in disbelief, and he removed his hand from his chest. "That's impossible," he told her flatly. "Damaged souls do not repair themselves."

"Well maybe not by themselves," she replied in a considering way, "but it's had a little help – wait! Let me help you" she stammered, scrambling to her knees and reaching for his arm as she saw him try to sit up on his own.

Murakumo grimaced, wanting to eschew her help, but knew that without her, he wouldn't make it off of the floor. So he didn't say anything as she bent over and took his arm, the warmth of her body brushing against him as she helped haul him to a sitting position. She was so…soft, he thought fuzzily, his head swimming and his chest burning. He closed his eyes, leaning against her side, feeling too tired to move and his thoughts pressed in on him.

How was he to claim his child and regain his kingdom when he couldn't even stand on his own? And he wouldn't be able to summon any of his followers without all eight, which meant that he would now have to wait until the child was older and he could harness its power. But he had to find it first, and he couldn't do that as long as he remained in his current condition.

"When I first brought you here," Midori murmured, breaking into his thoughts, "your mitama had been almost completely severed in two. But since then, it has gotten better, and I think in a few more weeks, it will be completely healed."

"You lie, human!" Murakumo hissed, taking his anger and frustration out on the dark headed girl. He felt her stiffen against his side but cared not at all for her feelings. "Mitamas do not have the means to repair themselves. Once they are damaged, they become useless.

Midori snorted and tried to move away from him, but he kept her anchored to his side, dependent on her to remain upright and so she subsided.

"Well that just goes to show that you don't know everything, Mr. High and Mighty," she responded sharply. "The structure of your mitama is very complex and it is _very _capable of repairing itself, if given the right nutrients. And would you please stop calling me human! I have a name you know!"

There was a long pause and then Murakumo demanded, "Just what do you mean by that?"

His tone of voice set her teeth on edge and she felt her temper rising despite her best efforts to keep it in check. What was his problem? Didn't he know how to be civil? He was the rudest, most excruciatingly insufferable person she had ever met, she thought, incensed. Why was she even bothering with him? She should just leave him to his own folly, she thought acidly.

But she couldn't. There was something about him that drew her to him. The clarity of his grey eyes, the long, jet - black hair, his classically structured features; he was beautiful, but it wasn't just that, she told herself, knowing that looks weren't everything. His manner spoke of one used to power, of being in control and yet she sensed a part of him that was out of control, a part that suffered from the weight of his pride and ambition.

It was that indefinable element that she could sense but couldn't see that drove her to reach out to him, even when he spurned her efforts. She wasn't even sure if what she sensed was real, if that part of him really existed. But she could no more deny the strong compulsion that drew her to him any more than she could deny herself the air she breathed.

"Answer me, human!" Murakumo ordered impatiently, his words cutting across her thoughts.

"No!" Midori snapped back, "not until you quit calling me that!"

She turned her head and glared at him, her brown eyes shooting sparks and saw her fury reflected in his grey eyes.

Murakumo grabbed the back of her hair and yanked, wanting to threaten her, but he became disoriented by a rush of strange emotions when he pulled her face closer to his. The heat of anger died from his eyes, and they became clouded with confusion. Unable to shake the strange feelings, he abruptly released her and looked away.

"Please – Midori," he requested stiffly, feeling the color of mortification stain his face, humiliated by his own words. "Explain to me about my mitama."

He stared uncomfortably at the wall, and thought she wasn't going to answer when he felt the warmth of her body brush closer against him, evoking those strange and uncomfortable feelings all over again.

Midori reached out to take his arm and put it around her shoulders but he resisted.

"We need to get you back in bed," she murmured softly, still holding on to his arm, "and then I will explain what I know about your mitama."

Murakumo's resistance subsided and he allowed her to place his arm around her shoulders. Working together, they managed to get him to his feet, but not without a great amount of effort on both of their parts. Once standing, his head began to swim and he leaned heavily against her for support to keep from sliding back onto the floor.

Midori tightened her arm around him to keep him from swaying and he became even more acutely aware of her softness pressing up against the length of his body. As her warmth penetrated into him, he felt a sudden surge of… he stopped, feeling disbelief wash through him as he realized what it was

Impossible, he thought as they tottered over to the bed and he collapsed against its edge. And yet, he could not deny that what he was feeling now was distinctly similar to what he had felt with Hikaru, only stronger.

Midori continued to help him, maneuvering him into a lying position against his pillows and then pulling the covers up across his chest as Murakumo just numbly lay there, his brain refusing to accept the reality of it as his eyes slid to Midori's slight figure.

Impossible, he scoffed yet again. He was Aragami, not human.

But he was in human form, a quiet voice in the back of his head reminded him, and his body functioned as a human body should – and not just androgynously either, but as a perfectly working, male body.

A fact he hadn't been at all sure of at the beginning when he had begun formulating his plan to regain his kingdom; for he hadn't known if he could put aside his distaste of humans long enough to actually try and lie with one. But he had realized he would never discover the functional limitations of his human body, unless he could find a female that didn't physically repulse him when he touched her.

Thus he had begun his search for an aesthetically pleasing human female to try and couple with; hoping to find that he was capable of sexually performing, if he could find a way to overcome his distaste for a process which could only be considered… disgusting. He had searched quite a while before finding the artistically beautiful girl with violet eyes and silken hair, and he had settled upon Hikaru as his choice, her face and figure not unbearable.

Surprisingly, he had experienced a moderate amount of pleasure in their coupling, which he supposed was a good thing, since the whole purpose of the exercise was to beget a child. But it was only because of that sensation he had felt with Hikaru that he could identify the strange and turbulent feelings that assailed him now. He looked up at Midori's plain face in a dazed sort of way, wondering how he could feel so strongly what he was feeling for such a nondescript female.

He should find her repulsive as he did most other humans, for there was nothing ornamentally attractive about her. But for some obscure reason that completely escaped him, he didn't.

It was confusing.

It was baffling.

It was humiliating, is what it was. The king of the Aragami was lusting after a mouse of a girl. How pathetic.

"Whew!" Midori sighed, leaning back and putting her hand against her chest, trying to catch her breath from all of the overexertion.

She seemed completely unaware of Murakumo's tumultuous gaze resting upon her as she pushed at the truant locks of hair lying against her cheeks, shoving them behind her ears before letting her soft brown eyes slide to Murakumo's face.

Murakumo looked away from her then, but his gaze was drawn back to her as she began to tell him about his mitama.

"As I was saying earlier," she explained, "the structure of your mitama is quite complex, a network of complicated synapses. It functions by drawing energy from your body through the neural network, thus maintaining its, er, functionality. When it becomes damaged or cracked, the network is broken, and it can no longer draw upon the resources that it needs to repair itself – "

"That is exactly what I have been telling you," Murakumo cut in impatiently, "it cannot repair itself."

Midori glared down at him, her mouth pulled into a straight line. "Will you just listen for a minute without having to display your overly abundant sense of self worth?" Murakumo shot her a seething look but didn't say anything and so she took a deep breath and continued, "where was I? Oh, yes – once the neural network is broken, the mitama cannot access what it needs to repair itself. - BUT if you repair the neural network, then access is restored, and the mitama can begin to regenerate. That's how it works," she explained brightly.

"How what works?" he seethed, her reasoning as clear as mud.

"How the solution I made works, of course!" she told him enthusiastically, "I synthesized a chemical reagent that forms a temporary bond to the neural paths allowing your mitama to function. The unfortunate part is that it is only temporary and must be applied several times a day to maintain the connection."

The image of Midori bending to apply some ghastly smelling solution to his chest flashed through his mind.

"You mean to tell me that that hideous smelling concoction will keep my mitama functioning?" he asked incredulously.

Midori nodded her head vigorously. "Yes. I've already told you that it's much better than it was –"

"The hell you say," Murakumo murmured more to himself than to her, his mind working feverishly, "then I won't have to rely on the child after all."

"What child?" Midori asked puzzled by the calculating look on Murakumo's face.

Murakumo glanced sharply at her, unaware that he had spoken his thoughts aloud until hearing her question.

"My child," he answered abruptly, seeing no reason not to tell her.

"You have a child?" Midori asked looking surprised and shattered at the same time, "I didn't realize – that is, I suppose you would be anxious to get back to your family –"

"It doesn't matter now," he interrupted, closing his eyes to block out the forlorn look on her face because it was making him uncomfortable. "I can wait until I am at my full strength before I return to them."

"But if you'll tell me where I can find – " Midori offered and jumped when his voice lashed out at her.

"NO! I do not need your help, hu – Midori," he opened his grey eyes and gave her an austere look, "I will wait until I am completely restored before I search for them."

"But why? Surely they are worried about you?" she persisted, confused.

"No!" he replied unrelentingly, "it can wait until I am whole."

His voice was hard, and something in his eyes told her to drop it, so she did. But she couldn't ignore the uneasy sensation gliding through her, sensing that something was very wrong. He was plotting something, she thought fretfully; otherwise he would not want to keep his whereabouts unknown.

And she was helping him by maintaining her own silence regarding the knowledge of the existence of another Aragami besides Kusanagi. Midori turned away from him, biting her lip and walked slowly towards the door. She should tell somebody, and yet, she was afraid to - afraid for him. What if she told them and they tried to destroy him? Could what he was plotting really be all that bad? Her heart told her no, but the history of the Aragami told her otherwise.

"Where are you going?" Murakumo asked her suspiciously so that she turned and gave him a steady look over her shoulder.

"To bed," she replied, and then, "goodnight – Murakumo."


	17. 16: The Paths of Destiny

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It took Kusanagi much longer to return to Momiji's house from Taki than it had taken him to arrive there because of the wind whipping the snow in horizontal sheets, blinding him. With heartfelt relief, he landed smoothly in the drive but stiffened right back up again, swearing softy to himself when he realized Momiji's car was missing. The drive was nothing but a sheet of pristine white, the tire tracks having long been covered. Kusanagi turned and quickly opened the door and without entering the house, yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Momiji!"

Only silence greeted him, but he had expected that. He ground his teeth together in anger and frustration.

"Momiji you little fool!" he growled, but inside he was panicking.

It was Susano-oh. This was his work, Kusanagi thought resentfully. Why couldn't he just leave Momiji out of his plans? Hadn't she done enough already? The little fool was rushing headlong into Susano-oh's scheme, trusting him implicitly when she should know better. Hadn't' she learned anything at all from their previous encounters with Susano-oh? Apparently not, he told himself acidly, the little idiot! Well, Momiji might trust Susano-oh, but Kusanagi sure as hell didn't.

It wasn't that he thought that Susano-oh was their enemy, because he didn't. But he didn't particularly consider Susano-oh their ally either. Susano-oh had already allowed Momiji to sacrifice herself once. What was to stop him from letting the same thing happen again? He was using Momiji for his own purposes, regardless of the consequences to her, and Kusanagi didn't like it one little bit. Kusanagi violently slammed the door and turned away from the house, his antagonism for the Storm god growing.

"Why can't you just leave her alone!" he railed at the heavens as another jagged fork of lightning illuminated the sky and the wind gusted against his face. "There aren't enough people in this world like her!! - And I will _NOT_ let her die for you this time!"

Susano-oh's response was unexpected: an encompassing silence that made Kusanagi's eyes widen in shock. Everything: the wind, the snow, the thunder, the lightning, all of it, abruptly ceased, leaving the air so quiet Kusanagi could hear his own breathing in the stillness.

Understanding.

Acknowledgement.

Acceptance.

The will of Susano-oh spoke volumes through the silence he had created, and then Kusanagi's mitamas began to glow, and he felt Susano-oh's presence flood through his body, the god's aura mingling with his through the bond of blue souls.

"She holds the light of hope, Kusanagi," came the god's words, overpowering Kusanagi's own sense of self as they swept through him, resonating through his veins, "the power of a giving heart can overcome any obstacle. Protect her well. She is my gift to you."

"What!?" Kusanagi breathed, stunned, as the god's presence faded.

But Kusanagi's surprised exclamation was caught up and spirited away on the wind as the peace of the moment dissolved once more into the onslaught of Susano-oh's raging storm. Kusanagi stood immobile as if unaware of the fury around him, while Susano-oh's statement bounced around inside his head and confusion clouded his thoughts.

He frowned and gave himself a shake. He didn't have time for this, he told himself impatiently. He would have to think about it later. Right now he needed to find Momiji. Pushing aside the myriad of feelings engendered by Susano-oh's words, he closed his eyes and concentrated on feeling her presence.

The iwatto.

She had gone to the iwatto, he thought, and there was something else – Kusanagi's eyes shot open and he reeled in shock as he felt a tangible presence he hadn't felt in over three years.

"Kaede," he whispered.

"Here's the last of them," Kunikida said tiredly crossing over to Matsu and handing her a pile of indexed samples.

"Thank you," she murmured taking them and putting them away, "Now all we have to do is wait for Yaegashi to finish inputting the data to see if our new Telemetry Land Tracking Software System is functional. The new numbers that we were able to get from the samples you brought me today will help tremendously in our testing - but I still can't believe how quickly you were able to get them. I didn't think the morgue would let you have them without first doing an autopsy on the bodies."

"Well, _harrumph,_," Kunikida cleared his throat a little uncomfortably, "we, er, didn't actually, – that is they were pretty busy and uh –"

Mystified, Matsu just watched Mr. Kunikida mumble on and on, a dull flush spreading across his cheeks and she only shifted her attention away from him when Ryoko cut across her husband's discomfiture.

"What he's trying to say is that we pilfered them while they weren't looking," Ryoko grinned, watching her husband roll his eyes.

"We didn't pilfer them," he contradicted, "we just borrowed them – I filled out all the necessary paperwork and gave them a requisition form – "

"Yes, you did," she agreed with a firm nod, and then pointed out, "but they told you that you would have to wait three days before the autopsies were finished and your request for samples could be granted."

"Well it's not like they're going to miss them, is it?" Daitetsu grumbled. "And until Matsu can isolate the radio isotope for the Tengugaki, we are going to have to rely on speed of access in gaining samples of the victims' DNA in order to stop them."

"You don't have to convince me, you know. And I don't think anyone here really cares about our methods of procurement. I know I surely don't - of course, I _am_ the one that did the pilfering, so who am I to complain, anyway?" Ryoko chuckled watching Kunikida frown moodily and begin muttering something about standard operational procedures.

She chuckled again, as she continued to listen to him, thinking he was like a big baby fussing about a missing favorite toy, and she found it impossible to take his grumbling seriously. She knew that no one wanted to stop this new threat more than he, and deep down he was aware that the most important thing right now was not how they obtained their data, but that the data was obtained. Speed was of the essence and relying on the proper channels in this instance would have only led to delay.

But it wasn't like he hadn't tried anyway, Ryoko thought sympathetically, He had used every possible aboveboard tactic in his arsenal to obtain what he wanted, including shouting at the desk clerk, and when that hadn't worked, shouting at everyone else who had anything to do with requisitions and record access.

Already, the body count from Tengugaki attacks just for the day was up to nineteen and if things continued the way they were headed, the government was going to have a wide scale epidemic if something wasn't done to stop them. That was why they have been so determined to get the samples for Matsu so that they could be included in the TLTS System. And that was why Daitetsu had persisted in making a scene.

At first, Ryoko had thought to try and stop him, knowing it wasn't good for his blood pressure, but once he got wound up, sometimes it was just better to let him go until he ran out of steam. So she had stepped back and let him have at it, while she and Sugishita had slipped away unnoticed during the ruckus he was making to obtain the DNA samples in a more covert fashion.

"Anybody hungry besides me?" Sugishita asked getting up from Matsu's desk and heading towards the door, looking around at the people in the room.

Matsu and Yaegashi just ignored him, too busy trying to finish up on the data analysis to be bothered with unimportant things like eating and Ryoko shook her head.

"I am," Kome shot at him, "bring me back something, will you?"

"Don't go too far," Kunikida ordered, "we might need you again tonight if we can get this system up and running."

"Sure thing," he grinned, his stomach growling and he turned to leave.

"Wait a minute!" Yaegashi called after him, getting up from his computer and carrying a data disk over to Matsu's desk where a flat, black square, smaller than a man's wallet, was wired to Matsu's computer.

Yaegashi slid the disk into the drive and then typed a command on the keyboard. There was a series of beeps as the software loaded and Yaegashi pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at Sugishita.

"I finished the data collection and I'm uploading it into the TLTS System now. I wanted to show you how the readout functions so you'll know what you're looking at."

"Can't it wait for half an hour? I'm really starved!" Sugi replied plaintively, putting a hand to his gurgling stomach.

"Stop complaining," Ryoko demanded with an impatient frown, "and come over here!"

"The woman always was a slave driver," Sugi muttered and with a resigned sigh sauntered over to look at the new tracking system.

He sidled close to Ryoko to peer over her shoulder and felt her elbow connect with his stomach.

"_Oomf!_ Hey!" he exclaimed affronted by the violent gesture, "what'd you do that for!?"

"Back off!" she muttered, her blue eyes glittering a clear warning signal.

"I'm just trying to see –" he objected innocently, but backed away anyway, not wanting to feel another one of her sharp jabs.

He shifted over slightly, positioning himself between Kome and Kunikida, and they all crowded around the small, blank LCD screen, waiting for something to happen. In the collective silence, the clicking and whirring of the computer's hard drive could be heard as it uploaded the data. But finally it stopped and then there was a frantic beeping noise coming from the TLTS System, a little red light blipping on the screen.

"Is it supposed to be doing that?" Sugi wondered aloud.

"If it's working right, it should only do that when there is a Tengugaki in close proximity," Yaegashi replied, "but let me reset it to make sure that it's not reading an error."

He reached over and unhooked the TLTS from the computer and shut it off for a few minutes before turning it back on. The little LCD screen had barely lit up again when the beeping started up again.

Kunikida pushed closer to Yaegashi and looked down at the screen. The only thing on the display was a set of plot coordinates down at the bottom of the screen and the little red blip blinking in the upper right hand corner that jumped a sector as he stood staring at it.

"I don't think this is a data error," he remarked in trepidation. "How can we see where this is?" Kunikida wanted to know pointing to the coordinates.

"Easy," Yaegashi replied. "The system was designed so that it could pull up any given location. Once you extrapolate the coordinates and reenter them into the system, it can draw you a map in a matter of seconds. Watch."

Yaegashi pushed several buttons and scrolled down the screen, locking onto the coordinates before hitting the enter key. Immediately a little map popped up, the red light still displayed, but now within the plotted map. Everyone leaned forward, trying to get a good look at it.

"Hey," Kome said, "it looks like it's headed for –"

"The iwatto," Kunikida finished. "Kome, I want you and Ryoko to come with me," he said stepping back and pulling his coat off the back of a chair. "Matsu, you and Yaegashi ride in the van. We may need some additional back up. Sugishita, I want you to track Sakura down and have her get to the iwatto as soon as possible. Then call Momiji and see if Kusanagi's back yet. We could use their help on this."

"Right," Sugishita replied moving over to the phone.

"Ooooh," Sakura sighed, arching her neck. Her head fell languidly back against the arm of the sofa and the glass of wine grasped casually between her fingers tipped precariously, threatening to spill its contents onto the floor. "I haven't felt this good in a long time," she murmured, her crimson eyes focusing on the blond Adonis sitting with her feet in his lap, his hands caressing her shapely calves and massaging her feet.

With a throaty moan Sakura raised her foot a little higher and gave him a seductive smile, which was completely spoiled when she heard her cell phone ring and her countenance twisted into a petulant grimace.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Adonis asked in a vibrantly husky voice.

"No," Sakura replied peevishly, "just ignore it. It'll stop wringing in a minute."

It did, and a satisfied smile spread across her face. "See," she began dulcetly and then, "oh crap!" when it started ringing again.

She leaned forward and roughly set her glass on the table sloshing the red wine carelessly across it, muttering harshly to herself. Then she violently snatched up her handbag, and while digging around for her phone told Adonis, "don't stop what you're doing. This will only take a second."

"This is Sakura," she said tersely and then to Adonis who was still massaging her feet, "oh yes, that spot right there. That's good."

There was a moment of silence and then came Sugishita's voice, an octave higher than normal. "Sakura?"

"Didn't I just tell you it was me," she demanded acidly, and then in throbbing accents, "oh, my god, that feels divine. Push harder!"

"S-sakura?" Sugi's voice cracked, "you're n-not – did I interrupt something?"

"Yes you did," she snapped, "I'm on a date with – " she paused, trying to remember Adonis's name.

"Hiyami," Adonis supplied.

"With Hiyami – thank you," she mouthed to Adonis, wiggling her toes playfully, and giving him a sexy wink. "What is it, Sugishita?" She asked impatiently.

Sugi cleared his throat uncomfortably and then said in as much of a businesslike tone as he could muster, "Kunikida is looking for you. He wants you over at the Amano iwatto as soon as possible."

"What about Momiji," Sakura sighed resentfully and then wanted to know, "can't you call her and Carrot Boy instead?"

"They're next on my list of people to call," he informed her, "but Kunikida still wants you to come."

Sakura rolled her eyes and groaned. "Can't it wait? I was in the middle of something."

"No," Sugishita replied unequivocally, "it's the Tengugaki. They've spotted another one and they may need your help. Whatever it is you're… doing … will have to wait."

"All right," Sakura replied pettishly and sat up, reluctantly pulling her feet from Adonis's magic fingers. "Come and pick me up," she ordered Sugi, "I'll be ready in five minutes."

"…Five minutes?" Sugi asked incredulously, "are you sure you can be dressed by then?

"What!?" she demanded, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing, apparently," he replied brusquely. "I'll be there in five minutes."

Momiji stopped the car and turned the headlights off, staring blindly through the darkness beyond the windshield where she knew the path to the iwatto was.

Kaede was here, she thought numbly. Momiji could feel her overwhelming presence along with the aura of another; an aura of sadness. It was the same sadness that she had felt at the iwatto in Takachiho and it was weakening, the aura associated with it was dying away. There was something else too, Momiji thought, stretching her senses to find what it was. Subconsciously she tightened her fingers on the steering wheel as a frisson of fear ran up her spine and her heart started pounding. Danger was coming.

Tengugaki.

She had felt it enough times now to know what it was and she knew why it was coming.

The child.

Quickly, Momiji grabbed her things and got out of the car, feeling little slivers of ice sting her cheeks and forehead as the snow, which had changed to sleet, was blown forcefully into her face by the wind. Momiji's hair billowed out behind her in chestnut waves as she lowered her head to protect her face from the flying shards of ice, and she squinted her eyes to keep the tiny, ice pellets out of them. Slinging her handbag over her shoulder, she skidded through the snow towards the iwatto, her darkened path made clear by surreal purple flashes of lightning.

Almost there, she told herself encouragingly, sensing the danger coming ever nearer, and bolting as fast as she dared, stumbling more than once and almost falling to the ground.

Run, run, run! she thought frantically, looking over her shoulder into the darkness. The feeling was so strong now that she almost expected to see two red, glaring eyes bearing down on her, but there was nothing but the blackness.

Out of breath, her hair peppered with beaded crystals of ice, Momiji reached the top of the stairs of the iwatto and turned to look down the path once more. She still couldn't see anything but she knew it wasn't far behind. Without hesitating, she turned and plunged down the steps inside the iwatto, her footfalls echoing sharply against the stone.

It should have been dark inside, but it wasn't. Momiji stopped halfway down, taking in the luminescent pool of water. It was beautiful; liquid light that gleamed silver and blue, shimmering against the walls and ceiling and gilding the dark hair of her sister down below.

"Kaede. You're really here," Momiji breathed softly, watching her sister kneeling next to a frail looking girl with silver - white hair who cradled an infant in her arms.

Momiji had spoken softly to herself, but it was as if Kaede had heard her, for she turned her head, and looked up the stairs. When she saw Momiji she rose to her feet, but remained next to the girl, waiting for Momiji to come to her.

It had been so long since Momiji had physically seen her sister - not since that day in Tokyo during the rite of Matsuri - that she almost didn't believe her eyes. Momiji started forward again, slower, as her gaze swept over her sister, and she was filled with conflicting emotions.

Gosh, she was so beautiful, Momiji thought in awe, even more so than before. She stood poised and graceful, her blue - black hair gleaming softly in the shimmering light and her wide emerald eyes vibrant and clear. It was no wonder that Kusanagi had fallen in love with her, came an observant but unwelcome voice in the back of Momiji's mind and jealousy reared its ugly head..

Kaede was her sister, Momiji told herself firmly, and she should be pleased to see her. But Momiji couldn't stop the wariness she felt, wondering what her presence here meant and how Kusanagi would react when he saw her. Unexpectedly Momiji was swamped with the desire to be just like her sister, feeling suddenly self-conscious, in her mind Kaede's beauty and grace only magnifying the plainness of her own brown hair and the clumsiness of her gait. As if to validate the surge of uncertainty gripping her, Momiji's feet got tangled together and she tripped. With a yelp, she went bouncing down the last several steps and landed in an untidy heap at the bottom, humiliated, but otherwise unhurt.

"Momiji!" she heard Kaede cry softly and grimaced sheepishly, pulling herself up into a sitting position while Kaede rushed to her side. "Are you all right?" Kaede asked in concern, grasping Momiji by the elbow and helping her to her feet.

"I'm fine," Momiji mumbled embarrassed, avoiding Kaede's discerning look and feeling her cheeks heat with the color of frustration at her own lack of coordination.

"It is so good to see you, sister," Kaede murmured, squeezing Momiji's elbow before letting go.

"It's – good – to see you too, Kaede," Momiji responded awkwardly, finally looking at her sister and her eyes widening when she saw the crystal mitamas. "You - have a mitama!"

Kaede's hand went up, lightly fingering the smooth crystal surface of the bead in her chest. "Yes.. It confines my energy. It is how I am able to appear here and be in your presence. Lord Susano-oh granted it to me so that I might come and help Hikaru."

"Is that Hikaru?" Momiji asked, looking over Kaede's shoulder at the girl with pale hair.

Kaede followed her gaze, and sadness crept into her emerald eyes.

"Yes," she murmured. "She has been awaiting your arrival, Momiji. And so have I."

Momiji found her hand pulled into Kaede's grasp and she was led towards the girl and her child. Momiji's brow crinkled in concern as she came to a halt next to Hikaru, noting the dark circles under her dull eyes and the pallor of her thin face. She was shivering with cold and Momiji hastily opened the bag she was carrying.

"Hikaru," Kaede said softly, going down on her hands and knees next to the girl while Momiji dug around in her bag. "This is the person whom I was telling you about – this is Momiji, my sister."

Kaede turned, looking up at Momiji just as she pulled out two blankets; one, a large, fuzzy, baby blanket and the other a smaller thermal one. Momiji smiled sweetly down into Hikaru's violet eyes as she crouched next to Kaede, wrapping the dark headed baby in the thermal blanket, and noting at the same time the blue souls the newborn possessed. Her gaze lingered momentarily on his tiny form, before she turned and draped the larger fuzzy blanket around Hikaru's shoulders.

"Momiji, this is Hikaru and her son, Noa," Kaede murmured by way of introduction while Momiji worked.

"Hello, Hikaru," Momiji responded softly in greeting, tucking the blanket snugly around her. "I'm sorry that I didn't think to bring a bigger blanket for you, but perhaps this one will help to keep you warm until we can get help."

"You have the same emerald eyes and the same kind smile as your sister," Hikaru mumbled thickly, her eyes resting tiredly on Momiji's face, before swinging worriedly to Kaede. "You're not leaving now are you?" she asked fearfully, "I know that you said that you would stay until I didn't need you anymore," her gaze flickered briefly to Momiji before returning to Kaede. "But could you please stay – just a little longer?"

Kaede reached out and gently smoothed the damp tendrils away from Hikaru's face.

"I will not leave –" she began and then broke off, turning her head sharply to look up the stairs leading out of the iwatto.

"What is it?" Hikaru asked tensely, "is it that - thing?"

Momiji abruptly stood up, turning and looking in the same direction as Kaede, sensing the same thing that her sister did and her throat clenched tight with fear

Tengugaki.

"Momiji," Kaede addressed her, not looking at her, her eyes still focused at the entrance of the iwatto. "Stay here with Hikaru," she ordered moving towards the stairs.

"Wait! –" Momiji cried taking a few faltering steps, her hand outstretched in Kaede's direction. "You can't –"

"It's all right, Momiji. I know of the Tengugaki, of Tamanasu. He must not be allowed to have the child, no matter what the cost," she replied steadily. Her graceful strides led her unfalteringly towards the stone steps where she paused briefly to look searchingly over her shoulder at her sister. "If something should happen, Momiji, you must take the child, Noa, and flee."

"But what about – " Momiji began looking back at Hikaru.

"There is nothing more that we can do for her." There was pain in her green eyes as they slid to the young girl. "Her destiny was written long before now and her journey must come to an end," Kaede told her in sad resignation and then turned away and started slowly up the stone steps, a determined look on her face.

Momiji looked back at Hikaru, and knew Kaede's words to be true. She had sensed it outside the iwatto; the fading of Hikaru's life's energy, dwindling rapidly away. Momiji returned to her side and slid down the rough rock of the wall to sit next to her, looking at mother and son and feeling helpless and angry that fate would be so cruel as to deny this child its mother and cut short such a beautiful young girl's life.

"Momiji," Hikaru mumbled and Momiji leaned forward so that she could hear her. "Take care of my Noa for me?" Hikaru implored, tears trembling on the end of her long lashes and sparkling in her violet eyes, her regret at having to leave her son palpable. It weighed heavily on Momiji's heart as she watched Hikaru. Her breathing was barely perceptible now as she endeavored to hand her baby to Momiji. "I'm so tired," she whispered.

Momiji took him, pressing his small warm body up against hers as he made small squeaking noises, and her eyes darkened in concern as she continued to watch Hikaru.

"I wish that Tsurugi was here to see his son," Hikaru sighed softly, the words barely audible as she closed her eyes, the tears finally spilling from her lashes to run down her cheeks. "He would have been proud to know that Noa looks – just – like – him –"

"Hikaru? - Hikaru!" called Momiji urgently, but there was no response and Momiji knew that she was gone.

Momiji tightly closed her own eyes against the sudden cutting, sharpness of loss that death brings, and she struggled to keep the grimace stretched across her face from crumbling into full-blown tears.

Kaede knew the minute that Hikaru was gone, and she fisted her hands at her sides and fought to control her emotions. She must keep her wits about her if she was to emerge victorious and keep her sister and Noa safe from Tamanasu. All thoughts of Hikaru fled as she felt a cold chill creep up her spine and she stopped halfway up the stairs, looking up at the dark misshapen silhouette of Tamanasu.

He appeared as evil incarnate, with his long, sharp, curling horns, the gleaming talons of his hands and his eyes glowing eerily against the darkness. Kaede's mouth went dry at his appearance and she couldn't keep the doubt that she would be unable to defeat him from creeping into her mind. Pushing her thoughts aside, she raised her chin and concentrated. Her crystal mitama began to pulsate with energy and she held her hands poised in front of her, her palms upright as bright energy began to swiftly accumulate.

Without waiting for him to come any closer, Kaede rapidly hurled the light at Tamanasu, hoping to put him on the defensive from the offset. But he flitted effortlessly around her missiles, his movement barely discernable, and Kaede knew that she would not be able to rely on her eyes if she was to beat him. Instead she forced herself to key in on the negative energy from his mitama, steeling herself against the anguish of the trapped souls that were imprisoned there.

"Th-th-that was r-r-r-eally p-p—pathetic, h-h-human," came Tamanasu's voice. "B-b-but th-th-then, y-y-you're not h-h-human, a-a—are you? P-p-perhaps I should c-c-call you V-v-viator, m-m-messenger of the g-g-gods."

His voice dragged, like a long stammer, having innumerable layers and pitches. It was as if there was many voices speaking as one, and Kaede knew that it was because he was utilizing more than the power of his mitama; the vileness of his demonic nature revealing itself as he took possession of the souls he had trapped, bending them to his will, so that he might make himself even more powerful.

In his current form, Tamanasu had the upper hand; his strength and speed far outweighed her own, but Kaede could not let that intimidate her. He might be stronger, but in directly manipulating the souls that he relied on for energy, he must draw them away from his mitama. That meant that the surge of power he amassed, would be quickly offset by the loss of energy within his mitama, and the flood of uncontained souls would wan rapidly, flowing away like a river that has risen above its banks.

His attack would be swift then, for he would have to defeat her quickly, Kaede calculated, preparing herself for his onslaught, all of her nerves stretched to feel his movement.

"-I-I would kn-kn-know the n-n-name of the o-o-one wh-wh-who b-b-bears a crystal m-m-mitama." Tamanasu said, walking with slow deliberateness down several steps before stopping, a gloating look on his face.

Kaede remained silent, her mouth tightening as she watched the ugly smile that spread across Tamanasu's face.

"H-h-have you n-n-nothing to say, th-th-then, Viator; n-n-no final w-w-words for your g-g-god, Susano-oh? Y-y-your en-en-energy is in-in-incredible, b-b-but it w-w-will not s-s-save you." His gaze flickered beyond Kaede, resting briefly on Momiji clutching Noa before returning to rest upon Kaede's tense face. "The h-h-hybrid child's energy sh-sh-shall feed my lord, A-A-Akumakai, but y-y-your energy will b-b-belong to m-m-me! Come taste y-y-your death, V-v-viator!"

He moved before she could see him, but she had felt it, anticipated it, so she was able to shift, disappearing in a flash of blue light just as his claws extended with lethal precision, and he slashed the air harmlessly as she reappeared behind him.

"No!! Kaede!" Momiji shrieked, coming to her feet as she watched Tamanasu bearing down on her sister.

She took a step forward, but Kaede warned her off, her voice hard. "No, Momiji, stay back! You must protect Noa!"

Kaede barely finished speaking before Tamanasu was on her again, and she only just managed to escape him. His claws ripped into her white robe and a burning sensation spread across her right side as they scraped against her ribs before she was able to get away, flickering and reappearing even further up the stairs. Perhaps if she could distract him, she could stall for time enough to gather up the energy needed to destroy him.

"You think your powers are superior to those of my lord, Susano-oh, Tamanasu? Has the depravity of your soul so twisted your logic that you liken yourself to a god?" she taunted and watched the anger begin to burn in Tamanasu's eyes as she continued. "I am Kaede Kushinada; _the_ Kushinada, and wife to Lord Susano-oh. His power is my power and my soul is his." Kaede's mitama began to glow even more brightly as she spoke, concentrating on gathering the luminous energy from the sacred pool to break Tamanasu's hold on the tormented souls he had bound to him. "Now that you know my name, I shall let you carry it back to the Withered Kingdom to whisper to your demon god, Akumakai. Let him feed upon the knowledge that he will remain forever shackled within the darkness of hell, for you may rest assured that he will _never_ feed upon the blue souls of the one that has the power to set him free!"

She had almost gathered enough energy to do the job now, but he must have sensed her growing power for an arrested look crossed his face and he lunged forward; his aim, not to strike a lethal blow, but to break her concentration. Kaede cried out in pain, her focus lost, grabbing her right arm as his claws ripped through her flesh and bright red stained the white of her sleeve as her blood flowed free.

"NO!" Momiji cried again, and she put Noa next to Hikaru and moved towards the stairs, her fear for her sister driving her on.

"Stop!" Kaede called to her desperately, "what do you think you're doing, Momiji? You have no power!" Tamanasu had turned to look at Momiji as she spoke, and saw that the child was unprotected. Kaede became frantic then. "Momiji, you little fool! Go back and protect the child! You must protect, Noa!"

Kaede flitted in front of him as she sensed him getting ready to move forward, throwing herself in his path to try and distract him. She miscalculated the distance however, and she stiffened as she felt his claws penetrate her body. Her eyes widened in shock as her breath was squeezed off by the ribbons of pain slicing through her, and she watched triumph gleam brightly in Tamanasu's eyes.

"It seems that my powers _are_ superior to those of your lord Susano-oh, Princess Kushinada," Tamanasu laughed cruelly, his voice it's normal rasp as he powered down. "For you have failed and your soul is the price of your forfeit. I shall, however grant your request," he informed her mockingly, "and carry your name back to Akumakai, but not as you had intended. It will be a token of my spoils of victory - along with the energy you harbor in your crystal mitama that I shall now claim as my own!"

He reached up and splayed his emaciated hand across Kaede's chest, resting it directly over the crystal mitama, and Kaede's head fell back as he began to siphon away her soul.

"Leave her alone!" Momiji shrieked, her stomach twisting sickeningly, watching as a look of perverse pleasure crossed Tamanasu's skull-like face and his black mitama began to glow red.

Momiji skittered forward and fell, the earth shaken beneath her by the sudden fury that the heavens had unleashed just outside the iwatto. Long strokes of lightning were hitting the ground at the entrance and branching out to extend into the opening, but they could not go far enough to reach the place where Kaede and Tamanasu stood. Momiji climbed unsteadily to her feet and stumbled forward again, climbing the stairs, her breath coming in painful bursts as she kept her eyes pinned to her sister.

"Stop! Stop!" she shrieked, closing the distance, "Oh, god, Kaede, NO!"

She lurched forward, unheeding of the danger she was putting herself in, her only thought, to free Kaede from Tamanasu's grasp. She reached out and touched her sister, her body carried forward from her momentum, and she collided against both Tamanasu and Kaede.

There was an instantaneous reaction, and Momiji was dimly aware of a huge explosion of light as they were surrounded by the red glow from the power of the Kushinada. Momiji felt her own energy flow out from her body and mingle with her sister's, and a powerful vortex was created. As if from a distance, Momiji heard Tamanasu howl in torment, caught in the stream of their combined power, and he was flung backwards, long threads of red lightning curving over his body as he writhed on the ground.

"M-momiji," Kaede stammered with difficulty, "you must let go or you're going to die!"

Momiji tried to answer, but she couldn't. Instead she let her knees buckle and the contact was broken, the red glow fading away. Almost immediately, Momiji heard the sound of a roar and knew that Tamanasu was free.

"Kaede, watch out!"

She clambered to her feet and twisted around shielding Kaede from Tamanasu's lunge with her body. She was going to die, she thought desperately. With a whimper she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, cringing, waiting to feel his blow.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji heard her sister breathe in amazed relief, and Momiji's eyes shot open to see Kusanagi swooping down towards Tamanasu to knock him sideways to the ground.

Already weakened from the power of the Kushinada, Tamanasu couldn't recover enough to regain his feet before a frenzied Kusanagi was on top of him, and his blade sliced cleanly through the black mitama. As the mitama spilt from his blow, a horrific wailing filled the iwatto and a cold darkness swirled up from Tamanasu's lifeless body, the earsplitting shriek accompanying it. Kusanagi, Kaede and Momiji watched, stunned as the dark, shapeless, mass hung in the air before it seemed to be pulled apart by some unseen force, and it slowly dispersed, taking the sound with it.

After the sound faded, there was a moment of silence and then Kusanagi turned, his eyes going not to Momiji, but to Kaede, sweeping from her face to the bloodied hand she held to her stomach and down to the ground where a puddle of blood was forming.

Momiji's heart twisted in her chest at the look of anguish on Kusanagi's face, equally reflected in his voice.

"Kaede," he cried in concern and then jumped forward to catch her in his arms and pull her close before she collapsed to the ground. "Kaede," he whispered again, almost helplessly, looking down into her eyes dulled with pain.

"H-hello, Kusanagi," Kaede replied weakly, her smile radiant as she gazed up at him.

Momiji struggled to breathe around the tightness in her chest, as she watched their exchange, and she wrapped her arms around her shaking body, tears of misery pooling in her eyes.

"I thought I would never see you again," Kusanagi said softly, seemingly unaware of not only the pain he was causing Momiji but also oblivious to her presence.

"Fate has a funny way of bringing about the unexpected," Kaede replied, her green eyes moving affectionately over Kusanagi's face before a spasm of pain crossed her features and Kusanagi tightened his grip on her, frowning in concern.

"Kusanagi, I never got a chance to tell you before – how special you were to me, how much it meant to know that you were near, watching over me," Kaede began and a look of pain crossed Kusanagi's face.

He dropped his forehead down against Kaede's and closed his eyes, whispering her name.

"Kaede."

Momiji put her hand to her mouth to keep the sob rising in her throat from escaping, and turned, moving away so that she could no longer hear them, not wanting to witness their intimate moment. It felt as if her whole world had suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces and she was left standing amongst the shards, her heart cut to ribbons by the wreckage and the image of Kaede and Kusanagi was reflected in each painful piece.


	18. 17: Severing Ties

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"M-momiji," she heard Kaede call to her, her sister's voice breathless sounding and weak.

Trying to pull herself together, Momiji clenched her eyes shut tight and then reopened them, intent on keeping her misery from showing in her expression. Taking a deep breath, she turned and approached her sister, pushing aside her own heartache as she looked with concern at her sister's pale countenance. She was losing too much blood, Momiji realized worriedly.

"Kaede, you're losing too much blood. We've got to try and stop the bleeding," Momiji said, her words an echo of her thoughts as she unwound the scarf from her coat collar, thinking to use it as a tourniquet of sorts.

"No," Kaede said gently, pushing Momiji's hand away.

"But, Kaede, if we don't stop the bleeding –"

"It's okay, Momiji. It doesn't matter now."

Momiji's white face tensed and she just stared down into Kaede's eyes, her body trembling as her fingers clutched tightly against the softness of her scarf. This was her fault, she thought in anguish. If she had done as Kaede had asked and stayed with Noa, then Kaede wouldn't have been forced to throw herself in front of Tamanasu to keep him from coming after the baby. She wouldn't be lying here, bleeding to death.

"Oh, Kaede, " Momiji murmured remorsefully, "I'm so sorry. If I hadn't –"

"No - M-momiji," Kaede cut across her words, "it's all right, but you must protect –" she stopped, gripped by another spasm of pain, and Kusanagi murmured her name, "- protect Noa, Momiji." Kaede's eyes flickered to the still form of Hikaru and the bundle of blankets next to her where Momiji had laid the newborn so that she might help her sister. "It is all I can do for her now - to ask you to protect him." Her eyes slid back to Momiji. "Go to him now, Momiji."

"But -" Momiji began, not wishing to leave her sister.

"No," Kaede shook her head, knowing what Momiji was thinking, "there is nothing you can do to help me, but you can help him, Momiji," her green eyes entreated, and when Momiji still hesitated, "Please, Momiji."

Momiji nodded dully, her eyes flickering to Kusanagi, whose attention was still absorbed by Kaede, before she slowly stood and numbly walked away.

Kaede watched her go, and then she turned back to Kusanagi and seeing the anguish still clearly reflected in his eyes, she put her hand to his cheek, her green eyes soft with affection.

"We've known each other for so very long, and yet, we've never really had the chance to talk, have we?" she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips, "not even now." She stopped again, her body stiffening, and she waited for a minute before she continued, "sometimes, I wish things had been different, that perhaps you and I – " and she stopped, her green eyes darkening when she saw the look of rejection in Kusanagi's eyes in opposition to her words, and she smiled indulgently at him.

She had known what his reaction would be, but she had hoped that if she prodded him, she might be able to get him to see that his feelings for Momiji had merit. "But, I think that that's impossible. Even if I had remained, it wouldn't have mattered, isn't that so, Kusanagi? For you are in love with someone else. You would have given your heart to her, even had I remained. Isn't that right?"

For the first time, Kusanagi allowed his eyes to drift to where Momiji crouched. She had her back to him, her head bent down so that her long hair cascaded softly down her back, coming loose from the ribbon she used at the bottom to keep it tidy. Kusanagi `quickly looked away from her, but Kaede saw the look of longing on his face before he could erase it.

"There was a time," he replied hollowly, his eyes swinging back to Kaede, "that you were all that I wanted, Kaede."

His eyes flitted across her features as he spoke, and he saw the kindness and gentleness that he had thought had forever disappeared written in her eyes and in her smile. She was once again the Kaede of his dreams, the girl of shining hopes and laughter. She had returned to the way she was, before the Aragami had taken her away, and he was thankful for that

"You were everything to me, and yet," he paused and couldn't keep his eyes from straying back to Momiji's bright chestnut hair, "you were only a reflection of the future, showing me someone I had yet to meet."

"Does she know?" Kaede asked quietly already knowing the answer, and her question brought his eyes back to her.

Kusanagi didn't answer her, but just stared solemnly down into her emerald eyes and she gave him a smile of understanding.

"It's okay to love her, Kusanagi," she reassured him softly.

Kaede could see the words of denial forming on Kusanagi's lips, and she put her fingers to his mouth to keep him from speaking them.

"You have been alone for so many years, Mamoru Kusanagi, feeling that your mitamas make you an outcast, someone who cannot find love or acceptance; someone who is unworthy of those things. But you're wrong. You let your hatred for the Aragami hold you prisoner, defining yourself as one of them because of your blue souls. You're not one of them. You've proven that by your actions, by defying their will and resisting their call, even when it caused you pain. And now you need to let go of the past, let go of your hatred, and find acceptance in who you are, in the man you've become. - You've been alone for so long, Kusanagi - but you don't have to be alone anymore – " Kaede stopped speaking and gasped, her body going rigid and her hand dropped away from Kusanagi's face.

"Kaede!" Kusanagi cried, feeling her slipping away.

"I – I –" she panted, struggling to draw her breath now, "I don't have much longer – "

Kusanagi made a move to pick her up. "Let me get you some help."

"No – Kusanagi," she replied with difficulty, her hand fluttering up to his chest. "It was inevitable that this should happen, for my place is with Susano-oh. But there's something that I need to do before I become too weak. You cannot defeat the Tengugaki alone, but with added strength -"

She put her fingers within the circle of mitamas on his chest and the crystal mitama on Kaede's chest began to pulsate. Almost immediately, Kusanagi felt a warm burst of energy flow into his mitamas, first the ones in his chest and then the ones in his hands and knees, the resonance reminiscent of Susano-oh's power. He suddenly felt a keen sense of awareness and the power in his mitamas seemed to be amplified.

Kaede's eyes closed and her fingers slid away from his chest, drained from the effort of transferring energy. "Now you should be able to feel their presence, the same as Momiji," she murmured. "It is the last thing that I can do to help you to defeat the Tengugaki. I wish that I had been granted just a little more time, but – it was not meant to be - Goodbye my dear Mamoru."

"Kaede?" he uttered, his voice cracking as her body went slack and her head fell to one side.

She had stopped breathing but her mitama was still gleaming brightly.

"KAEDE!" came Momiji's broken cry, an echo of Kusanagi's despair, feeling the disappearance of Kaede's aura.

"Kaede?" Kusanagi tried again, and when she didn't respond, gently laid her down, knowing that she was gone.

He stood staring down at her still figure for a moment longer and then turned towards Momiji. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her sister, a small bundle clutched against her chest. He took a step in her direction and then doubled over in pain, dropping to his knees as his mitamas began to glow brightly.

"_Aaaggghh!_" he choked, his body drawn up from the pain and his gaze flitted to Momiji afraid that she was in danger.

"Kusanagi!" she cried in alarm as he collapsed and she made to ascend the stairs but was stopped as she felt an electrical discharge flowing around her, keeping her from moving forward.

Momiji pulled back and watched as a blue-white vapor began to coalesce in front of her, brightening and solidifying until the transparent image of Susano-oh stood before her dressed in priests robes, his dark eyes gazing at her benevolently. Momiji stared, wide eyed as he glided closer to her and reached out to cup her cheek. Momiji had not expected to feel anything, but as his ephemeral fingers brushed against her face, they felt warm and comforting and very, very real.

Momiji closed her eyes and lowered her head, finding his kind gesture almost too much to bear. "I'm sorry, Lord Susano-oh," she cried disjointedly, stopping to swallow back the tears crowding her throat, "Kaede is – it's all my fault – "

"Thank you, Kushinada," Susano-oh spoke into her thoughts, cutting across her words and Momiji stopped, opening her green eyes to focus on his face, bewildered by his gratitude. "Because of you, Kaede's soul remains in tact."

"But – " Momiji stammered.

"No, Kushinada. You cannot blame yourself for wanting to protect those that you love. Your love is the reason I am here now, able to reclaim my Kaede, and I am grateful for that. Now you must use your love to protect the child." Susano-oh's eyes swept down to the sleeping infant and he smiled, his hand moving from Momiji's cheek to caress the top of Noa's head, "I feel the strength of his father within him – this one will be a strong fighter, that he will."

His father? Momiji thought, wanting desperately to ask who the child's father was, but unable to since Susano-oh had turned away from her and was gliding up the stairs to where Kusanagi lay incapacitated next to the still form of Kaede.

Susano-oh looked down at Kaede his eyes focusing on the crystal buried in her chest. Silently he leaned down and placed his hand over it until he covered it completely. Brilliant rays of light shot outwards creating a solid sphere that began as a small circle but rapidly grew until it encompassed Susanoh and Kaede and then Kusanagi, swallowing their figures within its brightness. And then it was gone, fading so quickly that it was as if someone had flicked a switch and Momiji had to blink several times before her eyes could adjust to its absence.

Momiji.

"Kaede?" Momiji called querulously, looking over to where the body of her sister still lay.

Thank you, for saving me, Momiji, and for protecting Noa.

Momiji spun around, hearing Kaede's voice coming from behind her farther away now, but she still couldn't see her. "Kaede?"

Momiji, would you do one last thing for me?

Momiji numbly nodded her head, "Anything."

My father approaches and I want him to know… - tell him that – despite what he sees, nothing has changed… that I am as I was before, I am with Lord Susano –oh, and that I am happy. Please tell him, Momiji, that his daughter… will always love him…

"I will tell him," Momiji whispered, staring into the darkness as her sister's voice faded away, and then "and I will do my best to protect Hikaru's son. I promise."

Momiji heard a scraping sound on the stairs behind her and she turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. It was Kusanagi. He was struggling to gain his feet, his chest heaving up and down from exertion as he finally managed to stand, swaying slightly, the shredded remnants of his light grey shirt stained bright red by Kaede's blood. He glanced down at the lifeless body of Kaede. The crystalline mitama was now gone, he noted before he turned in Momiji's direction his expression hardening as he began to stumble towards her, finding movement difficult.

Momiji watched him approach her and she tried to keep her heart out of her eyes, knowing that he must be in agony at having to lose Kaede all over again.

"Kusanagi," she began as he came to a stop in front of her, his face looking as if was carved from granite, "I'm sorry about –" and then jumped when he snapped at her.

"You should be! What the hell were you thinking, Momiji!?" he demanded, his face darkening with his fury now that he knew Momiji was safe. "Why the hell did you come here alone in the first place?"

"I was –"

"And what in god's name did you think you were trying to do, standing in front of that vile bastard, Tamanasu like that!? How were you planning on defending yourself, you little fool?"

"But I –"

He leaned forward and shouted at her "I don't care what kind of plans Susano-oh has for you, you should have waited for me to come back before you went haring off like some half-wit! You are NOT Kaede, Momiji! You have no mitama and Susano-oh isn't waiting in the wings to whisk you away should something happen to you!"

Momiji flinched and recoiled at his words as if he had physically struck her, but he took little notice as he heard a strange squeaking noise, followed by a thin wail and his eyes slid away from Momiji's face down to her chest where the sound was coming from, really noticing for the first time, the infant she had clutched to her.

"What the hell is that?" he asked thunderstruck. He watched small arms flail against her, and then saw a flash of deep blue.

"It's a –" Momiji began and then gasped and stepped back as Kusanagi let out a growl and unsheathed the blades in his arms.

"It's an Aragami!" he ground out, moving threateningly towards her his eyes focused on the blue mitamas as it continued to wail.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Momiji gasped, still backing away.

"I'm going to kill it!" he declared, his lip curling with hatred as he raised his arm to strike at it.

"_NO!_" Momiji cried turning away, holding Noa even tighter against her, looking with alarm back over her shoulder at the irrational look of hatred on his face, "Kusanagi, what are you doing!? You can't!"

Kusanagi reached out and tugged on Momiji's arm so that she was spun around and he raised his blade. "I've got to! It's an Aragami! – Move, Momiji!" he ordered when Momiji ducked her head over it and wrapped her arms more securely around him to protect him.

Noa was crying in earnest now and Momiji's body was shaking as she tried to shield him from the last person she would have ever expected to.

"He is NOT an Aragami!" Momiji contradicted desperately, "His mother is human – Please Kusanagi! Noa is only a baby; he's not going to hurt anyone! He is the one that Tamanasu is after. We must protect him. It was what Kaede wanted. Please!! Kaede died trying to protect him! I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to him!"

Her words had their desired affect, and Kusanagi stepped back, the fires of rage in his eyes abating. His face assumed a wooden expression as he sheathed his blades, his arm dropping slowly to his side, and he abruptly shifted his gaze from the tiny infant to Momiji's pale and tearful countenance. A silence fell between them and in the background, Momiji could hear Mr. Kunikida's voice followed by the sound of Kome and Ryoko, and she wondered how they knew to come. Kusanagi's eyes became brooding as he held her gaze for a moment longer, and then, without warning, he turned and bounded away, leaving her standing alone.

"Dear god!" Momiji heard Ryoko's shocked voice echo from the landing at the top of the iwatto as Kusanagi tore past her. "Is that – _Kaede_?"

"Kaede!?" came Kunikida's reply, and Momiji pushed her legs into motion when she heard him say, "where!? Let me see!"

Oh, no! Please no! Momiji thought, her feet pounding up the stairs, wanting to get to Kaede before they did, to try and shield her from their view until she had time to prepare them for what had happened.

"_My Kaede_!"

The tortured words echoed around the chamber walls, and Momiji pulled up short, just a few feet from Kaede's body, guilt laying heavily upon her heart, feeling as if she had once again failed to protect those that she loved from suffering pain. Her eyes burned with sympathetic tears as she watched Mr. Kunikida go down on his knees and gather the lifeless body of his daughter close, his grief stricken expression tearing at her heart. Ryoko crouched down next to him, looking on helplessly as her husband rocked his little girl back and forth, broken sobs rising in waves, shaking his broad shoulders.

"What in the hell happened here?" came Sakura's voice as she looked around, her eyes moving dispassionately from Tamanasu to where Kunikida sat rocking Kaede. "Hey," she said, recognition sparking in her crimson eyes as she pointed to Kaede, "isn't that the stupid girl from Tokyo three years ago that gave us all that trouble –" she broke off in a squeal and turned to shoot a nasty look at Kome, rubbing her upper arm where Kome pinched her. "What the hell did you do that for!?" she demanded.

Kome's eyes glittered with anger and she hissed, "That's Kaede Kunikida - _Mr. Kunikida's daughter_, you moron! You should know that since you read all the TAC files before turning them over to the CIA!"

Sakura's gaze swung back to Kaede before returning to Kome, her crimson eyes burning with resentment, still rubbing her arm. "Of course I read the files," she said tossing her head, "but you can't expect me to remember every little detail from something that happened over three years ago – that's ancient history!"

"God, Sakura," Kome muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets and hunching her shoulders, "you really are dumber than a box of rocks!! But even if you had forgotten, aren't you supposed to be some kind of psychic? I thought psychics were supposed to be sensitive to other people's feelings, or is that just the really _good_ ones?"

"Will you two stop it!?" Matsu whispered furiously, stepping between them, "and show a little respect!"

Kome shrugged her shoulder. "Sorry, Matsu," she said over her shoulder as she turned away, ignoring Sakura, her eyes suddenly going across the distance that separated them and settling on Momiji, flicking down with astonishment to the infant that she held to her. "Hey, Momiji, that's a – _baby_! And it's got mitamas!"

Everyone looked in Momiji's direction, including Mr. Kunikida, and Momiji felt her mouth silently open and close, not knowing exactly where to start. "I – I," she finally stuttered.

"Hey," Sakura said, pushing past Kome and bearing down on Momiji, "I bet that's the kid that ugly demon was talking about, huh?"

She stopped inches from Momiji, staring down at Noa, taking in his dark hair, his cat-like eyes and the bright blue souls buried in his chest. "Eeyew!" she grimaced, "he sure is an ugly little raisin, isn't he? All red and wrinkly like that!"

"Shut up, Sakura," Momiji glared at her, putting her hand up and shielding Noa from Sakura's critical eyes.

"I've never seen an Aragami child before," Matsu inserted her focus absorbed by the infant as she moved closer to Momiji herself so that she might get a better look at Noa, "well – that's not including Lord Susano-oh, but you can hardly count him as Aragami since he is a god."

"N-Noa is not an Aragami," Momiji defended, backing up a step feeling crowded. "His mother was a human – "

Matsu's gaze followed to where Momiji pointed. "Oh my goodness," she murmured and abruptly left Momiji to go over and see if there was anything that she could do.

Momiji watched her, even though she knew what the outcome would be, and wasn't surprised when Matsu pulled up the blanket to cover Hikaru's face.

"Did you say that this baby's mother was a human!?" Kome blurted out, and when Momiji nodded in affirmation a look of astonishment crossed her face. "You mean an Aragami monster and a human actually…." She trailed off, a look of repugnance on her face and then her body quivered as she tried to shake the vile image from her brain. "That's totally disgusting!"

"I don't think that the father was a normal Aragami monster," Momiji replied in a thoughtful manner, remembering Hikaru's wish that Tsurugi, the father, could see his son.

"I'm sorry, Momiji, but the words _normal _and _Aragami_ just don't belong in the same sentence," Kome told her ironically, "and even if it was an _abnormal_ Aragami monster – it's still gross."

"What is that?" a new voice was added to the fray and Momiji turned to see Sugishita standing with his hand over his nose and mouth to keep from gagging on the smell, looking down at Tamanasu's corpse.

Even in death, Tamanasu's red eyes had an evil intensity and his expression remained menacing. Sugishita put out a toe and gingerly pushed at the long blades extending from the Tengugaki's fingers and he shuddered violently before turning away.

"I assume that's a Tengugaki," Yaegashi replied, standing next to him, "although it looks completely different from the one that attacked us in Takachiho – except for the red eyes and the mitama."

"That's Tamanasu, the same ugly bastard that attacked Momiji, Kusanagi and I when we went to Takachiho, isn't it, Momiji," Sakura chimed in, her eyes turning to Momiji for confirmation.

Before Momiji could reply, Mr. Kunikida rose to his feet, his expression remote, showing none of the pain she knew he was feeling, and he approached Momiji.

"Momiji, I want a report on what happened here," he demanded in his most professional manner, his eyes flickering down to Noa before returning to her face. "Sugishita said that when he tried to call you, you weren't home. So how is it that you ended up here, with," he paused slightly before finishing, his voice becoming strained, "Kaede?"

Momiji watched as everyone crowded around her and Mr. Kunikida, and she swallowed nervously, trying to pull her disordered thoughts together so that she could give a coherent account of what had occurred.

"Susano-oh called me here." At her words, there was a collective moment of stunned silence.

"Susano-oh?" Ryoko murmured faintly, "_Kaede's_ Susano-oh? – Why?"

"He called me to protect Noa. When I arrived, Kaede was already here, protecting Noa and his mother, Hikaru. She knew that Tamanasu was coming for them. And she also knew that I was coming."

"This is the baby that the Tengugaki want then?" Kunikida's eyebrows went up as he looked at the baby. "what would they want with an Aragami child?"

"-He-'s not an Aragami!" Momiji protested for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"In Takachiho, Tamanasu threatened Momiji," Sakura broke in. "He said that once they found the child, that Momiji's life would be forfeit."

"Noa is like Kusanagi; part Aragami and part human. If Tamanasu or any other Tengugaki is allowed to absorb Noa's mitamas," Momiji murmured, speaking instinctively, "then maybe he would become immune to the power of the Kushinada – the same as Kusanagi. If that were to happen, then sacrificing the Kushinada would become meaningless."

Kunikida glanced back at Tamanasu and then his eyes moved to Kaede before turning back to Momiji. "If that's true, then they will stop at nothing in order to take possession of the child. You'd better let me have him, Momiji –"

"No!" she cried and seeing the shocked look on everyone's face tried to explain, "I'm supposed to protect him."

"But, Momiji," Kunikida tried to reason, "his presence will only put you in danger. Don't you see that it would be better to allow the TAC to take him into custody and find a safe place for him?"

"And what about the Aragami?" Kome demanded. "Don't forget the Aragami blood that we found in Ise. I'll bet that they will be looking for the baby too, wanting to use him just like the Tengugaki do."

"All the more reason that we should take him into protective custody," Mr. Kunikida responded.

But Momiji was shaking her head vehemently, her green eyes full of determination. "I can't, Mr. Kunikida. His protection is my responsibility. I don't know why, but Susano-oh has wanted this all along, and – it was what Kaede wanted, too. It was the last thing that she asked me to do before she –" Momiji stopped speaking as she saw the pain that flitted across Mr. Kunikida's face at her words.

"Daitetsu," Ryoko murmured, "I can't think of any safer place for him than to be with Momiji; after all, that means he will be protected by Kusanagi as well."

I wouldn't bet on that, Momiji thought sadly to herself, remembering Kusanagi's reaction when he had seen Noa's mitamas, but she didn't say anything, wanting them to believe that Kusanagi would offer the child the same protection as he did for Momiji.

"All right," Kunikida agreed, albeit reluctantly, but added, "but you must let us take him for now, Momiji. Just for a few days so that Ms. Matsudaira can examine him and make sure that he is okay."

Matsu stepped forward and Momiji reluctantly handed Noa over to her, feeling that she was breaking her promise as she did so.

"Don't worry," Matsu told her, seeing the doubt in her eyes, "We just want to make sure he's a healthy baby boy, that's all, Momiji. I promise to take good care of him."

Momiji nodded her head but her eyes were still on Noa, watching as Matsu cradled the infant, turned and then climbed the steps to the entrance of the iwatto, which was now faintly illuminated by the early morning sun. Had she really been here that long, Momiji wondered numbly and then turned when she felt Mr. Kunikida lay his hand on her shoulder.

"Why don't you let Ryoko take you home, Momiji? You look beat," he said.

Momiji hesitated looking into his craggy face. "What about you?"

"I'm going to stay here for a little while," he replied, his eyes going over to where Kaede was.

He would stay with her until the coroner came to get her, thought Momiji sadly, knowing that he had never imagined in his worst nightmare that this would be how he would be reunited with Kaede.

"Mr. Kunikida, Kaede spoke to me after Susano-oh came for her," Momiji told him and Kunikida's eyes flew back to Momiji's face in surprise.

"Came for her?" he asked faintly, not understanding.

"Kaede had a crystal mitama on her chest. She told me that it was how she was able to be here. And when she stopped breathing, her mitama still remained illuminated. Then Susano-oh appeared, and said that because Tamanasu hadn't been able to steal the energy from her crystal, she could return with him." She stopped for a moment, watching the bemused expression on Mr. Kunikida's face before adding, "He took the mitama, Mr. Kunikida, and when he did, I heard Kaede's voice. She asked me to tell you that nothing had changed; that she was with Susano-oh, and that she was happy. She also asked me to tell you that your daughter would always love you –"

Momiji broke off as Mr. Kunikida crushed her in a tight hug that expressed both his sorrow and his gratefulness, and Momiji struggled to keep from breaking down, almost wishing that it had been her instead of Kaede that Tamanasu had attacked.

"Thank you, Momiji," Mr. Kunikida told her gruffly, struggling to hold himself together, giving her one more tight squeeze before he let her go and abruptly turned away, saying, "now let Ryoko take you home. You need to get some rest."

Together, Ryoko and Momiji left the iwatto and headed for Momiji's car. But when they reached it, Momiji kept Ryoko from getting in.

"You need to stay here," she said, putting her hand out to stay Ryoko's as she reached for the car door.

"No, Momiji," Ryoko objected weakly, although secretly wanting to stay by her husband's side, "Daitetsu would never forgive me and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Let me take you home."

Momiji just shook her head adamantly. "He needs you, Ryoko. Go to him. I'll be all right on my own. It's just a short drive," she assured her.

"Are you sure?" Ryoko asked, biting her lip in indecision.

"Yes. Now please go to him," she ordered and watched Ryoko turn and head back up the path without looking back.

Momiji watched her until she was out of sight, and then she climbed tiredly into her car and started the engine, trying to keep her mind blank as she drove home. She was holding on to her composure by a mere thread and when she pulled up in the drive and saw that Kusanagi's bike was gone, her composure threatened to snap altogether. She could feel the protective wall she had built around herself begin to crumble and would have gone to pieces right then and there had her mother's car not pulled up in the drive next to hers.

"Momiji," her mother murmured in concern as she and Momiji's grandmother climbed out of the car. "What's happened? Are you all right?"

"Hi, mom," Momiji greeted her with a strained smile, "I'm fine. I was just on my way inside – I really don't want to talk about it now if that's okay," she replied. Her voice petered out at the end as tears crowded into her throat and choked off her words, knowing that she should tell her mother about Kaede, but also knowing that right now, she lacked the strength to do so.

"Momiji," Moe began, but was stopped when Momiji's grandmother put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Leave her be," she murmured, and Moe subsided into silence.

Then Momiji's grandmother turned and waddled closer to Momiji and took her hand into her own, pressing something long, hard and flat into it. "The trouble has only just begun, Momiji. You must be prepared," she said softly.

Momiji looked down, turning her hand over and saw the ornate scabbard of a ceremonial tantou. It was decorated with ornate chokin images; Lord Susano-oh and the first Princess Kushinada gilded in copper and gold. Momiji had never seen it before and she slid the thin bladed knife from its scabbard and stared down at it. There was something carved along the spine of the blade, but it was difficult to read, the letters worn smooth with the passage of time. Momiji squinted her eyes and ran her fingers along the symbols.

Ceremony of Sacrifice

"Grandmother, where did you get this?" Momiji asked, her eyes flying back to her grandmother's face once she realized what it was originally used for, and wondering why her grandmother had chosen now as a time to give it to her.

"I have carefully guarded it for many years," her grandmother told her quietly, "not even your mother was aware of its existence until today."

Momiji slid a look over at her mother who just stood next to her grandmother, a distressed look on her face.

"I have given it to you, Momiji," her grandmother continued, "because I sense a great evil closing in around you. It is unlike anything the Kushinada have faced before, and I fear for your very soul. This blade was originally used against the Kushinada, during the Ceremony of Sacrifice, and over time, it had come to symbolize the futility of our struggle against Fate and the eternal sorrow of our Destiny. When it was passed on to me, I kept it hidden for those very reasons, unwilling for the history of our clan to chain my own family to the sacrificial altar. But I give it to you now, Momiji, knowing that your destiny has forever changed to path of the Kushinada. I now believe that there is another use for this blade. It has tasted the blood from many generations of our family and there is a great power that resonates within its blade, an almost divine power. It is a formidable weapon, and I ask that you keep it near you, to call upon that power should you need it."

Without another word, Momiji's grandmother turned and shuffled back to the car, leaving Momiji standing there, her mouth agape as she watched her climb into it with painstaking movements. Then, Momiji turned and looked at her mother, who was still standing close to her, her green eyes full of questions. But Moe shook her head at her daughter's silent questions, having no answers for Momiji, her own heart heavy with an uneasiness that knowledge of the existence of the blade brought.

"I wish that you had never been born to me, Momiji," Moe murmured miserably, grabbing Momiji and holding her close, her body shaking with sorrow, "my blood has placed upon your life a curse that I would give my heart and soul to keep from you. I am sorry."

And with that, she too turned and walked back to the car. Momiji clutched the scabbard of the blade tightly within her hand as she watched her mother drive away. Then she turned and slowly walked into the empty house, and the tears that she had held at bay for so long, now fell, unrestrained, her battered heart unable to contain them any longer.


	19. 18: The King Confounded

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Zan Kazai approached Akumakai through the darkness. His cold and lifeless eyes ran along the Arch Daemon's twisted body, sliding covetously over each of the nine black mitamas that adorned Akumakai's massive body: one in each of his four hands, four in his chest and one on his forehead. Zan Kazai slowed his steps as he drew nearer, coming to a stop where the ground beneath his feet began to buckle, rippling outwards where the trunk of Akumakai's body joined with earth.

"Zan Kazai," Akumakai regarded him reprovingly, his four eyes skimming critically over the wraith's long white hair and skin, "we have not summoned you. Your presence is unacceptable to us."

"But my lord," Zan Kazai objected smoothly, sweeping into a low bow before the Arch Daemon, "I have only come to pay my respects to you and to lend you my support, should you wish to call upon me. It has been whispered throughout the Kingdom that Tamanasu has fallen short of his master's expectations once again and returned without the child," Zan Kazai murmured, keeping his smile of triumph hidden from Akumakai by his obeisant pose.

"Tamanasu is of no concern to you," Akumakai hissed in warning.

"Yes, Lord," Zan Kazai agreed, straightening and looking into the Arch Daemon's face, "I never concern myself with the failure of other's. And I have come not to talk of Tamanasu's defeat, but of the child and how he might be captured. You must know that the power that I have amassed here is much greater than that of –" Zan Kazai paused, about to say Tamanasu, but thought better and inserted, "many of your disciples, for I have walked this Road far longer than most. " Here, Zan Kazai bent into a sweeping bow once more, saying, "for your Greatness, I humbly submit my power to you, hoping to offer you success where others have only reaped bitter defeat." Zan Kazai paused, his body tensing with anticipation and his desire as he continued, "If you would but grant me mitamas Lord Akumakai, I could fly to the Over World and increase my power ten fold, ensuring that none could block my path to the child – not even the changeling, Kusanagi."

Akumakai gave Zan Kazai a measuring glance, which the wraith met unflinchingly, his pale eyes never wavering from Akumakai's face. Then without warning, Akumakai stretched his trunk forward and down, so that his face, normally at an elevated height, was level with Zan Kazai and he opened his lips, his mouth stretching into a gaping black hole. Zan Kazai struggled to remain impassive as a retching noise began to gurgle up from the depths of Akumakai and a thick, yellowish stream of steaming muck began oozing from his throat. It splattered to the earth to form a glutinous, undulating, foul smelling mass. Still choking, Akumakai stretched his jaw even further, reaching into his throat with one of his hands and pulling free two slime covered, black mitamas.

Zan Kazai's eyes lit with greed when he saw the mitamas grasped between Akumakai's long, skeletal fingers, and he fought to keep from bellowing in rage when, instead of bestowing them upon Zan Kazai, Akumakai placed the mitamas on the pustulent heap of refuse. Zan Kazai watched as the black mitamas sank into its yellowish depths and couldn't keep the loathing out of his eyes as Akumakai pulled back, assuming his elevated position in the air to gaze down with indifference at Zan Kazai.

"We have faith in Tamanasu," Akumakai hissed, not missing the hatred that gleamed coldly in Zan Kazai's eyes, "but we will give you a chance to prove your worthiness," he informed the wraith and watched as the hatred was swiftly replaced with a calculating look.

"Then you will grant me the mitamas so that I might capture the child?"

"If your power is as strong as you claim, then you do not need mitamas," Akumakai responded unconcernedly.

"But, my lord," Zan Kazai began furiously, and then stopped, clamping down on his anger, knowing that it would not win him Akumakai's trust and thus would not gain him what he coveted most. Composing himself he tried again. "It is true that I have great power, but in the Over World, even a power such as mine is useless if it cannot be harnessed – but if I had the mitamas –"

"You are a wraith, you have the ability to materialize at will. You do not need the mitamas," Akumakai hissed.

"But I can only materialize for a very limited time, after which I must return to the Withered Kingdom. However, if you allow me the mitamas then I would have a renewable source –" Zan Kazai reasoned, but Akumakai was tired of his insidious presence and he waved him away.

"If you are as powerful as you say, then you can achieve what we desire with your inherent power. Prove to us your superiority over Tamanasu, and perhaps we will grant your request for mitamas and fulfill your desire to feed upon the souls of the Over World. But fail, Zan Kazai, and I will make sure that you become even less than what you see of Tamanasu now," Akumakai paused and looked at the yellowish muck that he had regurgitated; Tamanasu's body inchoate, that, once complete, would hold the essence of his most devoted spectral servant. "You have until the shadow of the new moon to bring us the child, before Tamanasu is once again whole. Now go. We are weary of your presence."

With barely suppressed rage, Zan Kazai bowed stiffly to Akumakai before turning and stalking away. He would find the child, he thought resentfully, and when he did, he would kill it and take the mitamas for himself. And then he, Zan Kazai, would be even more powerful than the Arch Daemon who ruled the Withered Kingdom and he would banish the deformed, purulent Over Lord to the eleventh level of hell!

Akumakai watched in silence as the pale gleam of the wraith was enveloped into the blackness of the mournful cries of the damned beyond his chamber, and he could feel Tamanasu's anger hovering at his shoulder, a black mist hanging invisible against the gloom.

"What think you, Tamanasu?" he murmured, and paused listening to his servant's silent reply. "We agree with your assessment," Akumakai nodded, seemingly satisfied with Tamanasu's response. "Doromashi!" Akumakai called.

Doromashi stepped from the surrounding darkness, answering the summons of his lord. He knelt before Akumakai's body, but not before his red-slitted eyes spotted Tamanasu's black spirit and after a deep bow to the Arch Daemon, Doromashi also offered a slight bow to him as well.

"We are aware of your allegiance to us and have decided to reward you. Your master, Tamanasu, has asked us to send you to the Over World with eight others," Akumakai intoned, watching the Tengugaki's surprise and anticipation at his words. "Feast upon the humans and fill your mitama. Our only demand is that you return you us, your Lord, Akumakai, and your master, Tamanasu upon the shade of the new moon."

"Should we bring you the child, my lord?" Doromashi asked.

"No, we do not wish you to confront those that guard him. We only wish for you and your brethren to become stronger. Become stronger and return to us upon Tamanasu's rebirth, and then we will claim the child."

"I understand, my lord," Doromashi bowed, "it will be as you command."

Momiji closed the door and went through the automatic motions of removing her coat and shoes, hardly aware of what she was doing as her eyes filled with tears that blurred the room in front of her. Still clutching the tantou in her hand, she stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed onto it. Long, gusty sobs wracked her small frame and the raw pain in her heart found no relief through the tears that coursed down her cheeks and fell onto her grey sweatshirt. She closed her eyes against the images that haunted her, but reopened them when she couldn't banish them from her mind.

Why? Why did it have to be this way? Momiji silently lamented, weeping for Hikaru and Noa; for the separation of mother and child, for Kaede; whose life had intertwined with so many of those that Momiji cared about; for Momiji's inability to protect those that she loved from the pain of losing Kaede; and for a love that she had dreamt of for so long but now felt was lost to her.

Why? Her heart cried again, still seeing Hikaru's moonbeam hair, gleaming like the silvery tears that the young mother had cried, knowing that she had no choice but to abandon her son to a world of strangers. One young life cut short and another that had barely begun, destined for hardship and possibly something far worse. Momiji gripped the tantou tightly, her shaking fingers going white from the pressure, but she wasn't even aware of it.

Why? she asked herself again.

Momiji didn't want it to be this way. She greatly feared for the tiny life that trembled on the precipice of danger, in jeopardy of being swallowed by the forces that swirled around it, helpless to defend itself. And Momiji was terrified that she would be unable to uphold the task given to her by Susano-oh, and honor the promises she had made to Hikaru and her sister, Kaede.

Would she be strong enough to protect him, to keep him safe from the Tengugaki, the Aragami, and possibly even Kusanagi? She wanted to be, but she didn't think she was. She felt overwhelmed, the promises she had made and the duty she was to fulfill only serving to remind her of her own weaknesses, her inability to make a difference in the lives of others.

How could she protect one so small and helpless, she asked herself wretchedly, when all she could do was stand and watch as those around her suffered, the power of the Kushinada doing nothing to aid her in protecting those that needed her and those that she loved.

What in god's name did you think you were trying to do? …You are not Kaede, Momiji! Kusanagi had raged and Momiji squeezed her eyes closed as she remembered his words, desperately wishing that she were like her sister, like Kaede, the Princess Kushinada, wishing that she had just a fraction of the strength she had witnessed in her sister.

She should be here now, Momiji thought disconsolately, as a fresh spate of tears spilled down her cheeks.

Kaede was so beautiful and had such great power, Momiji reflected. Her sister's blue-black hair, compassionate green eyes and crystal mitama flashed through her mind and she remembered the energy that Kaede had wielded to protect them all from Tamanasu. Perhaps if Momiji were more like her sister, then she could have saved Kaede, and thus could have protected Mr. Kunikida and Kusanagi from the pain that her death had brought. Why? Why did it have to be this way?

Momiji continued to cry, her green eyes red and swollen and her cheeks burning from the salt of her tears and her thoughts turned inevitably to Kusanagi and his preoccupation and anguish upon seeing Kaede. As she remembered it, Momiji's heart became as a stone crushed under the weight of her sorrow so that if felt heavy and cracked, and so very barren. She loved Kusanagi more than life, and yet, if it were in her power to give Kaede back to him, she would. He had suffered a life of solitude for so long, and punished himself for what he believed he was and Momiji didn't want that for him. He deserved to be loved and to love in return. He deserved someone like Kaede, she thought fiercely.

The thought made Momiji cry even more and her tears continued until, exhausted, she fell asleep, the tantou slipping from her fingers to the floor where it landed with a thud. Her exhaustion was so complete and her sleep so deep that when the phone began to ring, she did not stir, thoroughly caught in a web of disturbing dreams.

Murakumo cautiously pushed himself from the bed and stood unmoving, trying to get used to the weak feeling in his legs. Swaying slightly, he reached up and slid his hand inside the folds of his robe, lightly touching the lowermost mitama on his chest. Was it his imagination, or did it actually feel smoother than it had yesterday? Not much longer, and perhaps he would be able to summon one of his servants. Still idly fingering the mitama, he wondered if he would be able to summon one now. The human girl had said that the solution she made restored the neural network, so perhaps –

Letting his hand drop to his side, he began to move slowly towards the closet intent on getting dressed. He grimaced as he pulled it open and looked inside at his shirt. How she had even managed to get it to stay hanging on a hanger was beyond him. It was completely shredded, looking more like a kite tail than a shirt. He reached out and with a snort, pulled it from the hanger, tossing it into the trashcan.

Thankfully his pants had fared much better. They had several slash marks in them on the thighs and around the knees, but there were wearable. At least until he could get some more. Moving slowly back over to the bed he sat down and slid them on, his chest pulling painfully when he reached down to pull them up. He straightened, his hand traveling back to the folds of his robe to feel the fractured seed one more time. The pain wasn't as intense as before, and Murakumo wondered again if he had the power to summon.

He looked down at the blue mitamas on the backs of his hands lost in contemplation and then, coming to a decision, he strolled slowly over to the window and opened the blinds, the morning sun striking him in the face and sending a tingling warmth over his skin. Holding his pale hand to the window, he stared at the mitama, concentrating all his energy into it. He could feel his power shift, circulating towards his center of focus and his chest exploded in pain, but he refused to give up as the soul in his hand began to glow.

Murakumo broke out in a cold sweat, gritting his teeth, his hand beginning to shake from the strain of trying to maintain his concentration, and then, it was over, ending abruptly. He leaned weakly against the window and closed his eyes.

Dammit!

He was still too weak. Perhaps in another day or two, it might be possible but – Murakumo stopped in mid thought, his grey eyes snapping open, and he whipped his head around and looked at the empty doorway. He could have sworn that he had sensed someone standing there.

Midori pulled back from the doorway before Murakumo could see her, and she closed her eyes. Fear and dread coursed through her, and she wished that she could erase from her mind what she had just witnessed. She didn't know what he was trying to do, but she knew that it couldn't be good, and she felt tears prick her eyelids as she realized that she wasn't going to be able to protect him any longer.

Midori pushed away from the wall and with soft, purposeful strides entered the living room. Absently pushing the stray wisps of dark brown hair clinging to her cheek behind her ear, she reached for the phone. She stared down at it for a long moment, before she dialed the number and put it up to her ear. It rang once, twice, three times.

"Come on, Momiji," Midori murmured anxiously, "pick up."

But Momiji's machine picked up instead and as Midori listened to the recorded voice of her friend, she lost her nerve. She pushed the button and hung up without leaving a message, putting the phone back on its cradle and bitterly reprimanding herself for being such a coward.

"What are you doing?" a softly menacing voice asked from close behind her and Midori jumped and swung around, her soft brown eyes wide with surprise.

"M-murakumo," she stammered guiltily, before she could regain her composure.

His grey eyes bore down into her brown ones, and she found his presence overpowering, interfering with her ability to think clearly. She took a step back to put some distance between them and tried not to notice how tall and powerfully built he was. Seeming to realize that his closeness put her at a disadvantage, Murakumo took a step forward and closed the gap, his steel grey eyes still unwavering on her face.

"I asked you what you were doing, Midori," he repeated.

The menace was more evident in his voice this time and he stepped even closer, forcing Midori to retreat even further to keep from bumping into him and she felt her heel scrape against the wall.

He was trying to intimidate her again, she thought peevishly and in spite of her unease, she felt her temper begin to rise.

"If you tell me what you were doing over by the window, then maybe I'll tell you what I was doing," she replied tersely, her brown eyes sparkling with anger, and she added sourly, "although I would think that anyone with an average intelligence would be able to figure out that I was making a phone call - But considering the tantrums you throw, it might be a bit of a stretch for you, since you have yet to prove that you have the reasoning capability beyond that of a three year old child!"

Murakumo's expression hardened and Midori heard the ring of steel as he drew his blade and with quick movements pressed it against her throat, his grey eyes cold with fury.

"How dare you insult me, human!" he muttered scathingly.

Midori lifted her chin defiantly at his words, trying to ignore the sharp point that pressed against her skin, pricking her uncomfortably. Did he really think that she would believe that he would kill her? Not hardly, she thought; at least not while he needed her to make the solution to heal his damaged mitama. All his threats really did were irritate her and show what a beast he could be.

"My name is Midori, you egocentric pin-head!" she hissed through gritted teeth, "_not_ human!"

She stood glaring at him and as he stood there staring at her, Murakumo's anger was replaced with bafflement. There was a long scraping sound and he retracted his blade, but instead of moving away from her, her stepped even closer and wrapped his fingers around her throat, forcing her chin up with his thumb so he could look into her face.

"I don't understand you," he murmured, his gaze searching as it flitted over her features, moving from her soft brown eyes to her upturned nose and settling on her lips, which were parted, as she struggled to breathe evenly. " Why are you not frightened of me?" he demanded softly, continuing to stare down at her mouth, and that same feeling he had experienced the night before, began to filter through his veins filling him with an uncomfortable heat.

He should have let her go then and stepped away, but he didn't.

"I – I don't know," Midori replied a little breathlessly as she felt his thumb begin to stroke softly against her chin, making her stomach do flip flops, "I- I'm just not… wh – what are you doing - !?" she began, trying to shrink away from him as he moved closer to her but she had nowhere to go.

She could only watch, stunned, as he suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened at the warm contact and she blinked several times before her eyes fluttered closed, a heaviness beginning to spread through her body, dulling her senses.

She was so damned soft, Murakumo groaned inwardly, so damned desirable, affecting his human body in ways he'd never thought possible, and he despised himself for giving in to his physical longing to touch her. Even as the condemning thought occurred to him, he couldn't stop himself from pressing closer to her.

He let his hand slip away from her chin and around her head to tangle in her short, silky hair so he could pull her closer, his lips sliding demandingly over hers, willing her to open them to him. Ever so tentatively, she gave in to his demands and immediately his tongue swept into her mouth, mingling with hers.

Midori's heart pounded heavily in her ears and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Murakumo's unexpected passion and her own response to him overwhelmed her and sent her body careening out of control. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the vague thought that this was somehow wrong, but she couldn't gather up enough strength or will to reason why.

Completely out of control now, Murakumo directed his hands back around to the front of Midori's shirt, and he rapidly unbuttoned it, pushing it off her shoulders. Then his lips left her mouth and he trailed kisses down her throat and across the swell of her breasts, as his fingers brushed lightly across the thin, silky material of her bra.

"God you're breasts are even more beautiful –" he murmured thickly, not finishing his sentence, but he didn't have to as his words clicked in Midori's brain.

More beautiful than, what? His wife? The mother of his child? The thought was a cold slap of reality and Midori opened her eyes.

"Stop," she muttered numbly, still having to fight against the desire to give in to the heady emotions he was stirring within her, despite the hard impact of his words. "Please stop," she entreated again, a note of desperation creeping into her voice, "this isn't right."

Murakumo wasn't really listening to her, but he managed to mumble, "Why isn't it right?"

"Y-you have a –" Midori hesitated not sure of what word to use, and so she settled upon the only one she could think of. "- You have a family."

"So?" he asked unconcernedly, his lips moving against her neck and his hands sliding around to Midori's back to unfasten her bra as he continued to nuzzle her.

His callous reaction hurt and amazed her, and she stiffened. So!? Was that all he could say? If having a family meant so little to him, then what he was doing with her meant even less. Feeling suddenly sick, Midori put her hands up and pushed hard against his chest. Her palm came into contact with his fractured mitama and he made a choking noise, abruptly pulling away from her like she had shot him.

Desire still darkened his eyes, but there was anger there too as he watched Midori put an unsteady hand up and pull her shirt together in front of her to shield her body from his eyes, a shattered look on her face.

"Why the hell did you do that?" he demanded harshly, his own hand splayed against the pain in his chest.

"Because you're an unfeeling bastard, that's why!" she retorted sharply.

Her chest heaved with misery and anger and she struggled to bury the hurt she felt, but couldn't keep the stricken look out of her eyes when she saw the mockery of a smile that twisted Murakumo's face as he laughed silkily at her.

"Feelings are for the weak," he told her scornfully, turning away, his long dark hair, flowing past his waist, catching her eye.

How could someone so beautiful be so cold and so uncaring? Midori refused to believe that this was all there was to him, needed to believe that what she'd sensed that drew her to him was real.

"How can you say that!?" she demanded, seeking proof that would belie this heartless indifference he assumed. She took a step towards his back, her gaze searching as she argued, "You have a child, and a…"

She stopped, her mouth open, still unsure of the word to use.

"A what?" he asked with a raised eyebrow looking over his shoulder at her, laughing in cold amusement at her discomfort. "A beloved spouse? An obedient wife? Hardly!"

"Well you must have cared for her a little if she is the mother of your child!" Midori argued hotly her face going pale in reaction to his next words.

What a pathetically naïve, little girl you are," he snorted derisively. "I am king of Aragami and as such, I find human _emotions_," he curled his lip at the word, "not only insufferable, but disgusting as well! Hikaru, the mother of my child, was just a means to an end for me, that's all - a human vessel to carry my seed."

Murakumo turned his head away from Midori again as he finished speaking, to hide from her the shadow that flickered in his eyes. As much as he wanted to believe that his own words were irrefutable, there was a small part of him, an almost infinitesimal part that denied what he'd said, knowing that it wasn't completely true. Such an admission was unworthy of him, however, so he brushed it away, like an irritating grain of sand that scraped against his conscience.

Midori's mouth snapped shut at the jeering sound of Murakumo's voice, and she began to quickly button her shirt with shaking fingers. She had to get away, she thought, before she broke down. His threats were easy to deal with, but this heartlessness was too much for her right now. Moving swiftly, she crossed over to the front door and hastily slid her feet into her shoes, wanting desperately to get away. Midori put her hand on the doorknob to turn it, but was stopped when Murakumo's hand came down on top of hers

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked softly, staring coldly down at her stony profile.

Midori struggled to stop the tears from pooling in her eyes as she kept her eyes trained straight in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she replied in a voice as steady as she could make it, "To buy you some clothes, your _Highness_. I want you out of here, so you can go find someone else to irritate besides me!"

He moved his hand away but not before saying in an almost bored way, "If you betray me, I'll kill you."

Midori looked at him then, her brown eyes almost black with emotion, "Then who will fix your mitama?" she challenged softly. "Kill me, and it will die, Murakumo."

The truth of her words infuriated him, as did the fact that she knew he would not attempt to kill her as long as she proved useful to him. But she had pushed Murakumo far enough today, and he wanted to make sure she knew who had the upper hand. So he wrapped his fingers around her arm in a cruel grip and leaned forward to hiss a warning at her.

"Don't tempt me, Midori, or you might find out just how much I am willing to sacrifice to rid myself of one more pathetically imperfect human!"

Hating him in that moment, and without realizing what she was doing, Midori reached up and slapped him hard across the face. Murakumo reared back, releasing her, a look of utter disbelief on his face. But his look of amazement was outmatched by that of her own, and Midori put her fists to her mouth, immediately contrite as she watched angry, red fingerprints appear against the paleness of his cheek.

Murakumo's expression went blank as he just stood there, staring at her, his mind refusing to comprehend what had just happened.

"Oh my god," Midori moaned, her fingers pressed tightly against her lips "I'm sorry! I didn't meant to –"

But Murakumo wasn't listening as he grappled with his thoughts.

Why in the hell wasn't she afraid of him? he demanded silently.

He could snap her neck like a twig; run her through with his sword, and yet her outrageous behavior continued. He couldn't believe that she had dared to slap him; and even worse, he couldn't believe he had let her get away with it. He continued to stare down at her, his grey eyes looking straight through her as he struggled to understand.

She was nothing but a vile human, he reflected faintly, a species that he wanted only to destroy, and he was the proud leader of the Aragami. _So why in the hell didn't he just kill her and be done with it? _He clenched his fist at his side, willing himself to draw his blade and do it, but looking into her soft brown eyes, he couldn't.__

"Baagghh!" he growled in disgust gritting his teeth and turning away.

Murakumo left her standing mutely next to the front door while he stalked back to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Midori stood motionless for a few moments after he'd gone, staring blankly at his closed door, and she struggled not to think too much about what had just happened.

Slowly she turned and opened the door. This would be the perfect opportunity to go for help, but even as the thought occurred to her, she pushed it aside. She knew she should be more than ready to confide in someone after all that had happened this morning, but she wasn't. She had given Murakumo the perfect opportunity to strike out at her when she had hit him. And yet he hadn't touched her. Why? Was the reason because of what she hoped? That there was some part of him that wasn't cold and unemotional? Or was it just because she had been right when she'd said that he needed her to keep supplying the solution that would heal his mitama? She wanted to know, she needed to know, she thought desperately, remembering how she had felt when he kissed her. And so for just a little while longer, she would keep his presence a secret. She just prayed that she wouldn't come to regret letting her heart make such and important decision.

Momiji was trapped in an endless world, dreaming of night.

She was running through the darkness, looking over her shoulder, fear coursing through her body as she tried to stay ahead, but she could feel it closing in, narrowing the gap that separated them with every step. Momiji turned back to look ahead and safety loomed before her in the form of the Cave of Restoration.

She was back at the iwatto, and Tamanasu was close behind. But how could that be? Her mind questioned the reality around her and Momiji became disoriented. Hadn't she seen Tamanasu fall under Kusanagi's blade, watched as a horrible black mist hung in the air, a thousand screams released upon his death?

But he wasn't dead, a little voice argued, and Momiji became firmly ensnared within the woven deceptions of her subconscious, the power of her dreams bending her mind into accepting a world of phantoms as reality. So she pushed aside her rational mind and began to accept this intangible world as the feeling of Tamanasu's presence became overwhelming and unmistakable, as well as the presence of her sister.

Kaede.

Momiji's heart skipped a beat.

Her sister was still alive!

Joy leapt within her as Momiji's feet pounded along the path, carrying her closer and closer to entrance of the iwatto. Perhaps this time, she could make a difference, came the eager thought, as she sprinted towards the mouth of the iwatto. This time she would warn Kaede.

She plunged into the entrance and began almost immediately to speak.

"Kaede!" she cried, "we must hurry! If we –" Momiji's voice suddenly died out and she came skidding to a halt, a funny pain in the middle of her chest at the scene before her.

Kusanagi was standing with his back to her, his arms tightly encircling Kaede and Momiji's words echoed loudly around the walls of the cavern, but neither Kaede nor Kusanagi seemed to hear her.

"I have wanted you for so long," she could hear Kusanagi say, his hand caressing Kaede's hair, pushing it away from her cheek, "and you have returned to me."

"It was fate that brought me back to you," Kaede murmured and Momiji watched, horrified as their embrace became something more.

Not wanting to watch, Momiji averted her eyes but she was unable to block the sounds of passion coming from the two lovers and her heart froze inside her. She had to get away, she thought desperately and she started to slowly back away, resisting the urge to run. She had only taken several steps when she collided with something hard and solid.

Startled, Momiji whirled around and saw only a shadowed image of herself cast in stone, a look of infinite sadness carved into granite. Mouth agape, she watched the lifeless statue slowly topple backwards. Without a sound, it crashed to the ground and shattered; only the face of sorrow remained intact.

Momiji stepped closer to it and watched as the lifeless eyes of the statue shifted in her direction. They took on a malevolent gleam, as an evil smile twisted the stone face. With a gasp, Momiji turned away, back towards Kaede and Kusanagi, but they were gone now, and Hikaru was there with Noa, holding her hand out to Momiji, begging for her to help her.

"Please, Momiji," she entreated, and Momiji went down on her knees beside her.

"Hikaru," Momiji began to speak to her, but the world around her shifted once again, and Hikaru became Kaede.

"Please, Momiji," Kaede now begged her, "you must save my son! Protect him from the blade!"

"The blade?" Momiji murmured, puzzled, taking the infant, "I don't understand – "

"The blade," Kaede gasped, her body fading away as her final words hung in the air, "Kusanagi no Tsurugi – you must – protect the child from – his father –"

Momiji gasped and looked down at the infant, his dark hair and cat-like eyes reminding her of Kusanagi. She clambered numbly to her feet and heard a loud howling begin to rise from behind her. It was Kusanagi.

"No!" he screamed, "Kaede! Come back!" His head was thrown back and his hands were fisted at his side as he let the sound of his pain echo around the iwatto. Then he suddenly opened his eyes and focused them towards Momiji, an odd heat glowing in their depths. "You," he said softly, his voice filled with loathing as he slowly advanced towards Momiji, "this is your fault!"

Momiji felt a chill of fright creep up her spine at the look on his face, and she backed away as Kusanagi continued to advance forward, the fervent light of hatred in his eyes growing. "You're the one that took my Kaede!" he growled rabidly.

He wasn't looking at her, Momiji realized, but at Noa.

His eyes were pinned unwaveringly to the child and he screamed, "You took her, and now you're going to pay!"

With a crazed look he unsheathed his blade, seemingly deaf to Momiji's screams for him to stop. And as he raised his arm to strike, his body shifted, and Momiji's voice froze in her throat. His skin had become mottled, stretching tightly across his now emaciated body, and his face became skull-like. His cat-like eyes changed to red with black slits and he became Tamanasu, his gaze shifting from the child back to Momiji and he opened his mouth to speak to her.

"Our covenant is the domination of humans and Aragami, our promise, the fulfillment of evolution through human and Aragami blood. Through evolution we will attain perfection and finally break free from the shackles of the Under World to become immortal and invincible!" Then Tamanasu reached for the child and Momiji was helpless to stop him. He held the wailing infant by his head and cried triumphantly, "With the power of this child, our awakening will begin!"

Momiji watched in horror as Tamanasu's mitama began to glow and the life was drained from the child.

Tears streaming down her face she stumbled forward, her hand outstretched, screaming, "No! No! Stop!!"

But with every step she took, Tamanasu seemed to move farther and farther away from her, and soon she couldn't see him any more. Unwilling to give up, she kept moving forward, but the iwatto began to grow dimmer and dimmer until Momiji was standing in darkness with only the sound of Tamanasu's laughter echoing around her, taunting her.

"You have failed, Kushinada! Just as before!" came his gloating triumph from the blackness, and Momiji put her hands to her ears to block out the sound. "You have failed and now we're free!"

"NO!" Momiji screamed at the darkness, "I won't let you win! I WON"T!"

With a start, Momiji opened her green eyes; feeling disoriented, she found herself staring into Kusanagi's cat-like eyes poised just inches from her own.


	20. 19: A Trail of Tears

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Kusanagi," Momiji murmured, her green eyes, still full of shadowed dreams, nonetheless reflected her relief at seeing him.

When she had first opened her eyes, and found him staring down at her, she had thought she had seen a look of dread in Kusanagi's eyes as he stared down at her. But now she couldn't' be certain since he immediately shot backwards, a shuttered expression now firmly ensconced on his face.

After a moment of unbroken silence, Kusanagi turned away from her, his hands in his pockets, and he prowled over to the window, while Momiji just watched him. He raised a gloved hand, and absently reached to pull back the curtains and open the blinds so he could stare out across the front yard, and allow the late afternoon sunlight to flood the room.

The silence lengthened between them and Momiji blearily sat up and squinted her tired eyes against the sudden brightness. She felt awkward and uncomfortable, and very uncertain of his mood. Was Kusanagi still angry with her? Was that why he was being so quiet? Or was it because he was mourning the loss of Kaede? As the questions flitted through her head, Kusanagi turned back in her direction and Momiji tried to find an answer to them in his expression. But his face was thrown into the shadows, making it almost impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"I was afraid you weren't coming back," Momiji mumbled, mostly to herself, as she let her eyes slide over him.

He was still wearing the same shredded, light grey shirt as he had been at the iwatto, the well-defined contours of his chest visible as it gaped open. The blue mitamas stood out brightly against the bronze of his skin and there were dark stains smeared across his chest and his shirt; blood stains from Kaede's wounds, Momiji thought numbly.

Kusanagi didn't say anything for the longest time, but just stared at her, his eyes, sweeping critically over the pallor of her face, and the fatigue etched in every line of her body.

"Of course I came back," he finally replied in a toneless voice, "It's my responsibility to protect you."

Momiji briefly closed her eyes at his words, feeling the ache inside her twist even more painfully, and she slowly rose from the sofa to her feet, keeping her gaze centered on the coffee table, averted away from Kusanagi.

"Responsibility," she muttered bitterly to herself, "that's all I am, isn't it? Simply an obligation to be fulfilled" and then louder, "if that's what you came back for, then you shouldn't have come back at all, Kusanagi," she told him in a hollow voice, her green eyes finally traveling to meet his, dull and lifeless with dark circles standing out beneath them. "You're not obligated to look after me anymore," Momiji declared and then paused in a moment of dejà vu. It seemed like they had already had this conversation, and she really didn't want to have it again. But apparently Kusanagi hadn't paid attention before, so she found herself repeating, "I'm not a little girl anymore, -I am more than capable of taking care of myself –"

"Like hell you are!" he suddenly railed, his body stiffening as the lid went flying off his anger. He stalked closer to her and pulled his hands from his pockets, balling them into fists to keep from throttling her. " - Unless you define being shredded into tiny pieces by some godless creature as taking care of yourself! - If I hadn't gotten to the iwatto last night when I did, you would have been dead, Momiji! "

The twisting ache inside her heart tightened even more and Momiji felt something snap at his relentless anger. She began to shake violently, no longer able to contain all of the helplessness, frustration, bitterness, and sorrow that she felt. All of her negative emotions flooded past the barriers she had erected to keep them in check, and she was suddenly unable to stop them from pouring from her mouth.

"That would have suited me just fine! It probably would have even been better that way!" Momiji screamed at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

There was a wild look in her green eyes. And as she stared up at Kusanagi, meeting his brooding, silent gaze, a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh squeaked out. Momiji put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the hysterical urge to howl insanely, struggling not to give in to the emotions prodding at her.

Momiji turned away from him then, scared by her own lack of restraint and knowing that she was close to losing complete control. Fighting to overcome her conflicting emotions, the rational part of her brain tried to reassert itself, appalled and horrified at her own words. But it was almost as if someone else had taken control of her body and was speaking through her and she didn't know how to stop them.

All she knew for certain was that she didn't want to be here like this, her heart raw with the pain of knowing that for Kusanagi, she was only something to be protected, instead of someone to be loved. At that depressing thought, the urge to laugh died, so Momiji dropped her hand away from her mouth, and her words began to pour out once more.

"I could have fulfilled my duty as the Kushinada if you had just let Tamanasu kill me," she informed him in a low tone, her voice shaking now almost as much as her body. "- At least then I wouldn't have had to watch – " her voice petered out miserably, squeezed off as another sob threatened to break free. Momiji swallowed the sound and drew in a gulp of air, managing to add in a calmer, deader voice, "It's the only thing I can do, the only way I have to protect –"

She broke off as rough hands seized her and swung her around, shaking her so hard that she had to clench her teeth together to keep them from rattling.

"Stop it!" Kusanagi demanded roughly, his face angry and harsh, "You're nothing but a fool, if you think that you your death would have been worth the sacrifice!" he hissed at her, enraged that she would treat her life so cavalierly. "You would throw your life away, and for what, Momiji?" he demanded, his eyes burning with an intense fury she had never witnessed in him before. "To protect, Kaede?" he gave her another shake as he continued to berate her. "Your sacrifice would not have stopped the inevitable! – she would have died anyway! Or maybe you were thinking that you could protect the little Aragami Seedling!?" Kusanagi spat venomously. "He's hardly worth your sacrifice! - You should have let me kill him while I had the chance, Momiji. If there's no child, then the Tengugaki cannot fulfill their plans - and now -," Kusanagi finally released her, shoving her backwards a little as he did, and she stumbled to keep her balance, watching him with wide eyes as he scowled down at her, "- now that the TAC know about him, his life will be nothing more than one long science experiment! He would have been better off dead!"

"You're wrong!" Momiji screeched, "I won't let that happen!"

"How are you going to stop it?" Kusanagi demanded, "- when you can't even protect yourself? - You _are _a little girl – and a naïve one at that - if you think you can save him from the government!"

"I can and I will!" Momiji retorted furiously. "You may not think I'm strong enough to protect him, Kusanagi, but I promised his mother and Kaede that I would! - I will protect Noa, no matter who and no matter what!"

Momiji clenched her teeth together. Her body was now shaking so hard that her knees threatened to give way, but she still managed to direct a defiant glare at Kusanagi. Inside, she knew her defiance was nothing but a façade, Kusanagi's words serving only to remind her of her own doubts regarding her capacity to protect the newborn, but she didn't want him to know that so she spun on her heel, wanting to flee before he realized just how little faith she had in her own abilities.

She took a step forward and her toe collided with the tantou making a soft clinking sound. She automatically reached down and swept it up, feeling Kusanagi's brooding eyes on her as she did so and her fingers tightened around the chokin scabbard.

"I may not be Kaede the Kushinada, Kusanagi," Momiji told him looking down at the blade in her hand, "but I'm still a Kushinada; my blood still has the power to protect, and I will use it to protect those that need me, and those that I care about, whether or not you think I am a worthy sacrifice!"

"Momiji!" Kusanagi called after her but she ignored him to run up the stairs, and he made no move to stop her.

Momiji scrambled up the stairs, and tripped into her room, her face hurting from the effort to keep from crying. She dropped the tantou on top of her dresser and shakily covered her face with her hands, trying to block out everything . She was so tired, so emotionally spent that all she wanted to do was to lay down, go to sleep, and sleep forever.

Momiji dropped her hands away from her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror, noting how the dark circles under her eyes stood out against her pale face giving her a haunted look. She looked terrible, she thought, but she couldn't summon up enough energy to care.

Looking away, she opened her drawer, pulling out the first nightgown she came to and put it on. Then she turned numbly towards the bed, not even sparing a second glance for the clothes that lay scattered across the floor where she had carelessly shed them, when normally she would have made sure she had put them away.

Slowly she shuffled over to the bed, turning out the lights as she went and lying down in the dim room, the daylight filtering through her blinds keeping her from total darkness.

Don't think. Don't feel. She kept telling herself over and over. Just sleep.

She pushed her thoughts away, willing for sleep to come, but as she closed her eyes, she couldn't ignore the heavy feeling in her heart and a single tear squeezed itself out from beneath her eyelids, slowly sliding down the side of her face. It was soon followed by another and then another.

Don't' think. Don't feel. Just sleep.

Turning onto her side, Momiji curled up into a protective ball, and her face crumpled. She covered it with her hands as the tears trickled down her cheeks, and her shoulders began to shake. No more, she silently pleaded as her brain kept going around and around everything that happened. I just want to sleep, she silently despaired, but her heart was hurting too much to listen and she broke into quiet sobs.

Sakura's face twisted into a petulant grimace. How come she had gotten stuck with returning to the lab with Ms. Matsudaira? Looking out the window, she rolled her crimson eyes to the heavens and stared resentfully at them.

Hadn't she been a good girl lately? She silently asked the gods in a peevish sort of way.

She had even given up her date with…damn! What _was _his name? – That blond Adonis – just to do the bidding of the TAC! She hadn't had to answer her phone, she thought waspishly. She could have just let it ring. Or better yet, she could have chucked it out the window and said, 'to hell with them!"

But she hadn't.

She had done her duty.

S_he had been a very good girl! _She assured herself, her bottom lip angled outward in a petulant pout.

And this was how they repaid her for her services. By making her play nanny to a squeaky, squirmy, little raisin, Sakura huffed to herself, scowling down at the infant that was clutched awkwardly against her midriff as she did her best to feed him the formula that Matsu had handed to her when he had started to bawl.

Jeez! What she wouldn't give to be with Ryoko and Kunikida who had both stayed behind at the iwatto, waiting for the arrival of the coroner to take that girl, Kaede. She would have even been willing to put up with that redheaded gorilla, Kome, and her geeky husband, Yaegashi, who had gone with Sugishita.

Kunikida had given them morgue duty. It seemed that Sugishita knew his way around there well enough to get tissue samples from Tamanasu, having run the gamut there once already. Kome and Yaegashi would be acting as his diversion, but Sakura didn't see what Kome had that could be more diverting than her own charm and beauty.

It just wasn't fair! She fumed, glaring down into the cat-like eyes of the dark-headed little raisin. Her glare relaxed a little as she examined him, watching him suck hungrily on the bottle she was feeding him, his tiny hands with the mitamas buried in the backs curled into miniature flailing fists.

Now that she thought about it, Sakura admitted, the little sucker did look a lot like Kusanagi. She wondered if Kusanagi could be the father and almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of that thought. Kusanagi might be a plant, but he was as straight as a stick when it came to girls. The only one he was interested in was Momiji, and knowing little Miss Virgin, Sakura doubted he had gotten anywhere with her either.

But still, she thought in a considering way, cocking her head to one side as she stared down at Noa.

An unholy light began to shine in her eyes, and her lips curled into a feline smile. Whether or not Kusanagi was the father made little difference. She could still have some fun with the idea, taunting Kusanagi with it and maybe even managing to get a rise out of Momiji with it as well.

Perhaps it would even give little Miss Oh So Perfect something to think about. Who knows, it might even spark a few naughty ideas in that sterile little brain of hers. God knew she needed to loosen up some – and a good roll in the hay with Kusanagi would probably work out all of those irritating personality kinks that Sakura hated so much, like that nauseating air of sweet innocence.

Bleah!!

Just thinking about it made her sick!

Sakura's musings were abruptly interrupted when Noa jerked his head to the side, the nipple of the bottle sliding from his mouth.

"Hey, what's the matter? A second ago you were screeching like rubber on spinning wheels and now you act like you don't want any more? Make up your mind will ya!" she ordered him looking down, and her eyes widened in horror as he began to spit up some of what she had just fed him.

"Eeyyeew!" she gritted in disgust, holding Noa away from her body as if he was a sack of rotten potatoes that had just started to ooze.

"What? What is it?" Matsu swung away from her lab table and asked in a panicked voice.

Thinking that something was wrong, she bustled over to where Sakura was sitting by the window, acting as if she was about to drop kick the newborn across the room. Matsu looked at Noa's face, now going purple as he prepared to howl his little lungs out. As he started to wail, Sakura immediately thrust him towards Matsu, a rattled look on her face.

"Here, you take him!" she said, and Matsu's arms automatically encircled the squalling baby, cuddling him against her lab coat where she proceeded to alternate between patting him and rubbing him on the back. "I can't figure out what the pruny little brat wants."

"Don't you know how to burp a baby?" Matsu asked impatiently, still rubbing Noa on the back even though he had ceased to cry.

"Well, no," Sakura retorted, moving away so that Matsu couldn't hand the baby back to her. "It's not something that they teach you as part of your training to become a priestess, and it's not something that I have a burning desire to learn either. Besides, you seem to be more the motherly type than me."

Matsu rolled her eyes and stepped up, thrusting the baby back into Sakura's unwilling arms. "You're here, Sakura," she replied in a firm, matter-of-fact voice, "you might as well make yourself useful. I have to finish what I'm doing so that I can tell Momiji it's all right to take Noa home."

Sakura's mouth compressed into a thin line at the mention of Momiji's name.

"Why isn't she here now? She should probably be doing this, since she is the one that's going to be taking him anyway," she grumbled sourly.

"Because she needs some rest," Matsu shot over her shoulder as she returned to her lab table. "You forget that Momiji's been through quite a lot lately."

"I haven't forgotten," Sakura seethed, "No one will let me forget. - She's not the only one who needs her beauty sleep, you know. I have quite a delicate constitution myself!"

But Matsu just ignored her, engrossed once more in her work, and Sakura was left to stare resentfully down at Noa who was once more greedily sucking on the bottle she popped in his mouth.

"Just you wait, Momiji," she said heatedly, "after I get through, I'll have you and Kusanagi squirming worse than this little raisin."

Kusanagi watched Momiji leave the living room and his fury slowly dissipated as he reflected on her distress in believing that he thought her unworthy to be the Kushinada. He was the unworthy one, he thought growling in frustration, not her!

Those had been his exact thoughts all day as he had ridden around on his bike, the biting wind numbing his body but not his mind, unable to shake the image of Momiji at the iwatto, standing in front of him, trembling and pale, staring at him like he was a monster.

It had cut him to his very soul when he had looked up from the squalling Aragami baby to see that look of fear on her face, and he had left her there, unable to bear it. If it had been anyone else, he could have shrugged it off, uncaring of how they thought of him, but not with Momiji.

It mattered very much to him what she thought; too much, and he had fled, running from that look and trying to get his emotions back under control. He had ridden and ridden until he was bone weary, and then he had ridden some more, afraid to come back to Momiji's house, afraid of what her reaction would be when she saw him again.

Finally, knowing he had no choice but to face her sooner or later, he had returned.

When he had opened the door and found her sleeping, he took the opportunity to move towards her, his gaze unguarded and as he let it sweep over her, going from her chestnut hair to the curve of her cheek and he suddenly noticed that she had been crying.

A lot.

Concerned, he had leaned down then, brushing away some of her tears with the back of his fingers, lingering against the softness of her skin and wondering if losing her sister was the sole cause of them. Slowly he had removed his hand from her face and thought to stand up, but his eyes had slipped down to Momiji's slightly parted lips, and, instead, he had felt himself leaning forward, drawn by the memory of the sweet softness he tasted each time he had kissed her.

He had stopped just inches above her though, hovering there, afraid that he might wake her up and afraid, too, of what he would see in her green eyes if he did. He had been completely caught off guard when her eyes had slid open of their own will while he was still poised above her. Panicked, he had shot backwards, but before he had managed to pull himself upright and away from her, he had seen her eyes light in recognition followed by a flash of something else.

As he had sought to put some distance between them, he had been struck by the realization of what that flash was. It wasn't the fear he had anticipated and had tried to brace himself for, but patent, overwhelming, relief. He snorted derisively to himself as he remembered it.

How ironic.

While he had been worried about coming back, torturing himself over the very thought, she had been worried that he wasn't going to come back.

Kusanagi had been dumbstruck for several moments by that revelation, but as he had continued to look at her, seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes and how small and battered she had looked, he had felt his anger at her foolish actions start to build once more, knowing that he had once again come close to losing her last night. Knowing that his anger was the last thing she needed to witness; the fragile look on her face a testimony to that fact, he had tried to keep it contained. But when she had told him that she could take care of herself, her words had goaded him into releasing it, and then she too had exploded, misunderstanding the heart of he had said.

He was sorry that it had happened, but he would take their exchange of angry words over the look of fear in her eyes any day. Now he just had to find a way to explain to her what he had meant, even though he'd rather not. But again he felt he had no choice, knowing that Momiji needed to understand how important she was, not just as the Kushinada but as the person she was. Kusanagi grimaced, not wanting to have to wrap his tired brain around how he was going to manage that without having an aneurysm, so he pushed the thought aside for now, and turned to trace Momiji's steps up the stairs.

At the top, he paused, looking in the direction of Momiji's room, and he noticed that her lights were out. She was probably fast asleep, he thought to himself, remembering how wiped out she had looked, and thinking of how he longed to crash headlong onto his own mattress, but knowing that he couldn't until he took a shower. With a heavy sigh he turned, moving towards the bathroom, but he stiffened and stopped, looking back over his shoulder into Momiji's room when he thought he heard a noise.

Straining his ears, he listened, but there was nothing. Shaking his head slightly, he opened the bathroom door and took a step inside, but turned right back around again, leaning out into the hallway and looking fixedly towards Momiji's room again. He was sure he had heard something that time, he told himself, and without hesitating he softly started towards her room, listening intently as he went. He stopped just outside her room, his ear cocked towards the doorway, listening to the indistinct sounds of snuffling.

She was crying.

A lot.

And he didn't really know if he wanted to go in. But his feet didn't give him a choice as they propelled him forward, his body dragging reluctantly behind. She was huddled into a ball, turned away from the doorway so she didn't see him standing there, watching her tremble in emotional turmoil.

"Momiji –" he began in a reluctant, quiet voice and then stopped as Momiji's sobs abruptly broke off into a surprised squeak.

Momiji heard Kusanagi's voice and she tried to stifle her sobs, hoping that he hadn't heard them and willing him to go away. She held her breath, her body jumping in silent hiccups as the sobs tried to break free, and clenched her teeth, praying that he would think she was asleep and turn around and leave.

Leave! Leave! Leave! she prayed, silently hiccupping and feeling her face turn red from the lack of oxygen.

"Momiji -" Kusanagi murmured again, his voice just as soft, but this time, closer.

He wasn't going away, she thought miserably and unable to hold her breath any longer she released it with a loud whoosh. A long uncontrollable sob shuddered free as she felt his weight sink onto the side of the bed next to her and her back went sliding towards him.

"Momiji –" he started again, but she interrupted him with a litany of apologies.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she sobbed, her eyes squeezed shut in pain. "You're right -" _hiccup_, "- I'm not a very good Kushinada -" _hiccup_. "My sacrifice would have meant nothing –" _hiccup_, "- it wouldn't have brought Kaede back –"

"Momiji –" Kusanagi dropped a hand to her shoulder, wanting to hold her, but knowing that he couldn't as long as he was still stained with Kaede's blood.

"It's all my fault! -" _hiccup_, "- Kaede told me to watch Noa – and I – I was afraid that Tamanasu – I saw her get hurt, and I thought- I just wanted to help her – and I – oh god," she sobbed, "I'm responsible for her death!"

"Momiji –" Kusanagi tried to insert once again, but her voice continued to override his.

"I wanted to help her, so I left Noa unprotected! –" _hiccup_, "- and Tamanasu would have gotten him if Kaede hadn't stopped him – but – but – she was too close to him, and I – oh god!"

"Momiji –" Kusanagi attempted once more to interrupt her, his voice a little more insistent as his hand slid from her shoulder to smooth back the chestnut tendrils clinging to her damp cheeks and temples.

Momiji sobbed harder, "I'm so sorry! If I had done what she had asked, she would still be here! –" _hiccup_. "- I know how much she meant to you, Kusanagi!" her voice was swinging radically from low to high pitch as the words squeezed themselves out in between sobs.

"Momiji! –" He raised his voice over hers, but he still couldn't get a word in edgewise as she continued her torrential outpouring of emotion.

"I wish that she could be here for you and –" _hiccup_, "- Mom and –" _hiccup_, "-Mr. Kunikida! - oh god!" she wailed, her small hands fisted, clutching against her chest, "I wish it had been me instead!

"No. Momiji –" Kusanagi's hand went back down to her shoulder and he gripped it tightly, refusing to listen to her beat herself up anymore.

"I saw the way you looked at her at the iwatto. I had thought that – well, it doesn't matter anymore – but now I know how long you have wished that she could be here with you! And - I can't bear the thought of knowing that because of me, you'll never see her again!"

"Stop it, Momiji –" but she wasn't listening to him.

"I know how much you loved her Kusanagi! - How much you still love her! "

"No, Momiji, I don't think you do," he said, finally having had enough.

Abruptly pulling her onto her back, he leaned down, his elbows resting on either side of her shoulders, and then he softly brushed his lips over hers, feeling them tremble beneath his touch. She hadn't been willing to listen to his words, so perhaps she would listen to his body instead.

Momiji's eyes shot open at the unexpected warmth of contact, and the fresh sob that was rising in her throat sputtered out and died, a small squeak taking its place. Satisfaction at having been able to dry her tears coursed through Kusanagi as he brought his leather clad hands up to cup her face, suddenly wanting desperately to touch her, his need stretching beyond the original intent for kissing her.

With his thumbs, he traced the path of tears, his mouth tasting the salt of her sorrow as his lips feathered across her cheeks before once again finding their way back to her mouth to move subtly across the soft contours of her lips. Kusanagi stifled a groan as his body started to tighten against his will and he struggled against the desire to deepen the kiss, determined to keep his touch nothing more than a light caress, wishing only to comfort her.

Momiji's green eyes remained wide open, staring into Kusanagi's face, so close to hers. The soft shadows and the fading light played across the planes of his features making him all the more alluring to her, and she absently noted that he had his own eyes closed. As he continued to kiss her, Momiji felt confusion begin to override her sorrow, and she struggled to understand what was happening.

Why was Kusanagi kissing her, when he was in love with Kaede? Was he seeking to find some small piece of Kaede within Momiji? Momiji tried earnestly to string two coherent thoughts together, but as Kusanagi's lips continued their soft but insistent assault against hers, she found her thoughts swallowed by the fluttering sensation in her chest and the familiar heat that began to flow outward from the pit of her stomach.

Feeling her begin to relax, Kusanagi slowly pulled away, but remained hovering above her, his hands smoothing her hair away from her face as he stared solemnly down into her storm-tossed green eyes.

"Momiji, what happened at the iwatto with Kaede was not your fault – No –" Kusanagi put a long finger lightly against Momiji's lips as she opened them to protest, unwilling to let her interrupt him. "You were just trying to help her. You would never have left the…baby -," Kusanagi paused, his voice becoming strained as he spoke the word 'baby', still having difficulty accepting the Aragami child "- if Kaede hadn't been in some kind of trouble. I'm sure she would have done the same if it had been you instead of her. - And even if Tamanasu had been unsuccessful in his attack against her, you must have seen that her death here was inevitable – No –" he said again when Momiji reached up and tried to pry his finger loose so she could speak. "- let me finish Momiji! " he demanded, becoming a little exasperated, " – Kaede had no intention of remaining here for _anyone_, least of all me –"

He broke off once again, this time, because Momiji was mumbling against his finger, despite his efforts to keep her silent, finding it impossible not to respond to his words.

"But, I saw the way she looked at you – and the way you looked…at…her!" Momiji blurted out miserably, still confused.

At Momiji's words, Kusanagi sat back, remembering what Kaede had said to him at the iwatto.

Sometimes, I wish things had been different, that perhaps you and I…

But even now, remembering her wistful admission, he shook his head. She held an affection for him, Kusanagi thought, but she was in love with Susano oh. And Kusanagi – well, Kaede would always have a special place in his heart, but he wasn't in love with her, either. Not now, at any rate, and he began to doubt that he truly ever had been.

It was just as he had told Kaede: she was the reflection of Kusanagi's future. But Kusanagi couldn't tell Momiji that, he thought in alarm. At least, not now. Not yet. Jeez, just thinking about it gave him a creeping, claustrophobic sensation in his chest.

But he had to tell her something.

Looking down at Momiji's anxious expression, he swiveled around, bringing his legs up onto the bed and leaning back against the headboard, trying to give himself some time to think of the best way of saying what he wanted to say, without making himself too uncomfortable. Kusanagi crossed his arms in front of him, took a deep breath, and then began.

"You need to understand that for the longest time, Momiji, Kaede was my life," as he softly spoke the words, he could see the pain, instead of lessening was growing in Momiji's eyes, and he hurried on, before she started crying again, "she was my family, Momiji. - The only family I had. It would be strange, don't you think," he asked looking down at her, "for me to have watched her all of those years and not have feelings for her?"

He seemed to be waiting for her to respond so Momiji took a deep breath and murmured numbly "I understand, Kusanagi –"

"No, Momiji, you don't," he replied, running a hand through his hair in an agitated way, "I can see that you don't. Kaede is a special girl, and her life was never meant to be shared with me -"

No, dammit! That's not what he wanted to say, he growled at himself, feeling idiotic. All he was doing now was reinforcing in Momiji's mind the attachment that he had to Kaede. He needed to try something else. Uncrossing his arms, he put his hands on the mattress and scooted down until he was lying flat on the bed, his head on the pillow next to Momiji's. Then he rolled over onto his side and propped up on one elbow, so he could look down at Momiji .

She was busily twisting her fingers around and around in the sheet pulled up to her breasts, seeming suddenly shy now that he was stretched out so close to her. Kusanagi silently watched her for a few moments, his eyes following the nervous movements of her fingers before sliding back to her face to hold her gaze, letting the heat gather in his eyes, wanting her to see it, willing her to acknowledge it for what it was: his desire for her and no one else.

"Momiji," he began softly, almost seductively and smiled to himself as Momiji bit her lip, proving that she was extremely aware of him, feeling the desire in him. "In all the time that I protected Kaede, it was always from afar. I never dared approach her. I never talked to her and I never touched her."

He lazily reached out and softly stroked Momiji's face with the back of his hand, slowly tracing the line of her jaw to her chin. His gaze never left her face, and he saw her eyes widen almost imperceptibly as he provocatively flipped his hand over and trailed his fingertips from the contours of her chin, down the smooth column of her neck where he let them come to rest against the rapidly beating pulse at its base.

"B-but I'm sure that you must have –" Momiji stammered.

"Wanted to?" Kusanagi supplied smoothly for her, one eyebrow raised in slight inquiry.

Not ready to answer her question, he moved his hand upward and away from her neck, grazing the sensitive skin behind her ear with his thumb as he splayed his fingers through the smooth texture of her hair, rubbing its silkiness between his fingers. It felt so soft and he knew that if he leaned forward, he would be able to smell its honeysuckle fragrance.

Careful! Came a warning voice in the back of his head. He was walking a thin line, and if he weren't cautious, he would step right over and forget what he was trying to prove. Attempting to clamp down on the fires beginning to rage in his body, he tried to force himself to remove his fingers from Momiji's hair, but found he couldn't summon up the willpower to do it. Instead, he decided to torture himself some more before he tried to answer Momiji's question.

Still propped on his elbow, Kusanagi leaned into her, allowing his cheek to almost touch hers and he closed his eyes and breathed in, almost groaning aloud as her scent filled his nostrils.

Concentrate, he silently ordered himself, and forced his eyes open.

> > "Did I want to be with Kaede? To touch her?" he whispered his breath warm against her ear, "the way that I am touching you? Is that what you want to know, Momiji?"

Momiji opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out when Kusanagi pressed his lips against her ear and started to nibble on it. She was finding it more and more difficult to breathe, and speech of any kind was beyond her at the moment. Then he began to slide his lips along her jaw line, angling his mouth across her cheek to graze against her lips.

This time his eyes were open like hers and Momiji could see the desire banked within their depths as he opened his mouth across hers and began to kiss her hungrily, almost desperately. Momiji's breath was coming in small gasps and she closed her eyes, drowning in the sensations that Kusanagi was stirring within her, opening her mouth to his onslaught, his tongue slipping inside her mouth as she did so. A small whimper escaped from Momiji, and Kusanagi began to gentle the kiss, but taking his time, not wanting to let her go. Slowly, he finally lifted his lips from hers, but remained as close as he could to her without touching her.

"Did I want to be with Kaede? To touch her?" he repeated again, ready to answer her question at last, and added, "It would be a lie, Momiji, if I said that I had never felt that way," he whispered, something almost like regret sounding in his voice at having to say the words.

Kusanagi's statement struck her hard despite his effort to be gentle, and Momiji stiffened, feeling the tears start to once again pool in her eyes. Kusanagi sensed her reaction and he pulled back enough so he could see the expression on her entire face.

"Kaede was all that I knew, Momiji. And everything about her fascinated me because I knew of nothing else, because I had no one else. Did I want to be with her? Yes, I used to think about what my life would be like if I could reach out and touch her, even talk to her. Do I still feel that way? No. I don't. Not even remotely."

"But –"

"No 'buts', Momiji," Kusanagi replied softly but unequivocally. "Even now, when I think about it, I can't believe that I ever truly felt that way. - Kaede was my family, but I don't love her like –" Kusanagi abruptly broke off, biting his tongue as he realized what he had almost blurted out. " –that," he substituted quickly. "I don't love her like - like a man is supposed to love a woman. Even if she had remained now or if she had never left, I would never have pursued those feelings that I had so long ago, Momiji. They mean nothing to me now. She means nothing to me . _I do not love, Kaede!_" He stressed each word as he spoke them, his eyes fierce as he stared down into hers. "Do you understand, Momiji?"

He kept his fingers cupped around her face while Momiji stared up at him, the pain in her chest lessening.

"Y-yes, I understand," Momiji murmured and watched Kusanagi slump in relief.

He leaned forward again and gave her one more, light kiss before rolling away from her. He was suddenly anxious to get away, knowing that if he didn't, blood stains or no blood stains, he wouldn't be able to stop the sexual frenzy he had managed to engender in his body as he had tried to convince Momiji that he didn't love Kaede.

"Good. I'm glad you finally understand," he breathed somewhat strained, "now try to get some rest, Momiji," he ordered and retreated rapidly from her room, heading back towards the bathroom to turn the cold water on full blast.

Momiji's mouth fell open at his hasty retreat, but she had no complaints. He wasn't in love with Kaede, she murmured to herself, feeling relieved as she turned over and tried to close her eyes to go to sleep.

But sleep wouldn't come.

Despite Kusanagi's assurances to the contrary, Momiji still felt responsible for Kaede's death, and her feelings of guilt mingled with the heightened awareness of her own body that Kusanagi had stirred within her, leaving her to toss and turn restlessly, still so tired, but suddenly unable to rest.

"Kaede," she murmured, "I'm so sorry."

Momiji mentally pictured her sister's dark, blue-black hair and green eyes and wished that she could see her again, to talk to her, and then, felt a surge of excitement as a thought occurred to her.

Maybe she _could _still see her, Momiji reflected. Perhaps if she went to the iwatto and performed her Ritual of Purification, she might be able to reach her and talk to her like she had with Susano-oh. It would be worth a try anyway, she decided, feeling even better than before. She would go tomorrow and if the TAC had pulled out, she would try it. Feeling satisfied with her decision, she closed her eyes and heaved a peaceful sigh, a tranquil expression spreading across her face.

It last for all of two minutes.

Then her brow wrinkled into a frown and she growled in frustration.

"Well, crap," she huffed and abruptly sat up.

Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she reached for her robe, still unable to sleep. The sole reason for her dilemma now was the memory of Kusanagi's lips moving across hers. She couldn't get it out of her head and remembering it was only feeding the energy thrumming through her. Standing at the edge of her bed, she leaned her head back and groaned, still unable to squelch the memory.

Momiji looked to the window. It was still light out, but just barely, she observed. Maybe if she put something into her empty stomach, it would help to settle her down. With that thought in mind, she shoveled her arms into the sleeves of her robe and then felt around for her slippers. Padding wearily out of her room, she dragged her body down the stairs and trudged towards the kitchen.

She automatically turned the light on and then plodded slowly over to the refrigerator opening it to stare blankly at its contents. She really was hungry, she thought, but she felt too tired to put any effort into making anything. With a sigh, she shut the refrigerator and went over to the stove. Maybe if she made herself some hot sake, it would help her to sleep, she decided. With a yawn, she pulled out the seldom used bottle of sake she kept for special occasions and poured some of its contents into the kettle on the stove, waiting with drooping eyes for it to get hot.


	21. 20: Primadonna

20. Primadonna

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY

"If you would just sign here, Mr. Kunikida," the coroner politely asked, proffering the clipboard and pen to the big, burly man.

Feeling for her husband, Ryoko stood, biting her lip and watching him, her arms crossed anxiously in front of her.

Daitetsu looked blankly at the clipboard but made no move to take it.

"We need your signature on the death certificate, Mr. Kunikida," the coroner prodded reluctantly.

Daitetsu remained motionless and Ryoko stepped forward.

"-Would it be all right if I signed?" she inquired softly, her blue eyes shifting between her husband and the coroner, wishing to spare him some pain, no matter how small it might be.

The coroner shifted his attention to the trim brunette standing uncomfortably to his right.

"And you would be?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"I'm Mrs. Kunikida," she responded, "Kaede's… stepmother."

The clipboard changed directions, and Ryoko reached out to take it, noting that Daitetsu turned away as she did so. She hurriedly scribbled her name next to the bold slashing X and thrust the document back at the coroner.

"I am sorry for your loss," he intoned with distant politeness before stepping away, going to join the other two men who had placed Kaede's covered body upon a gurney to carry her from the iwatto.

Daitetsu didn't watch them leave, tried not listen as the wheels rattled each time they bumped up the stone steps leading out of the iwatto. Instead he kept his eyes riveted upon the pool of water, following the long gleaming bars of light from the solar mirror that shimmered and undulated along its surface.

She had been here.

His Kaede.

Perhaps standing in the same spot where he was now standing; perhaps even watching the water as he watched it now. It had only been the space of a few hours in time that had separated him from her. Transient moments that kept them from meeting in this spot, face to face where they might have shared an instant of companionship, their eyes seeing the same things and their voices mingling in conversation.

Only a matter of a few hours, and yet those hours had been stretched into an eternity, he thought, the precious minutes that might have been, nothing but an unrealized longing, the vagaries of time forever depriving him of seeing his Kaede again.

He couldn't believe that this was happening. His little girl was gone, and he hadn't even gotten the chance to say hello before he was forced to bid her goodbye. He felt so empty inside. He'd always been sure that he would see her again. He'd always held out the hope that she would return. He had never imagined that she would return and he wouldn't be here for her when she did.

A single tear slid down his rough, weather beaten face and he made no move to wipe it away.

It wasn't fair! He railed internally, the hands in his pockets tensing into fists, a bleakness etched into his craggy face and pain filling his dark eyes as he denied the pain in his heart any verbal expression. He stood there, time holding meaning for him no more and only moved when he felt someone press close to his side.

It was Ryoko.

The comforting warmth of her presence soothed some of the pain he felt, and he looked down at her, his barren expression easing somewhat. Ryoko was always there for him, he thought to himself, no matter what. She listened uncomplaining to his grumpy mutterings, taking care of his home and his life like it was an honor to do so, instead of the large pain in the butt he knew it had to be. His precious, ever vigilant wife; without her he would be lost.

Ryoko took one look at Daitetsu's face and then leaned into him, her arms going around his chest. She laid her head over his heart and she felt his own arms encircle her, holding her tightly against him.

"I – I don't know what to say," Ryoko murmured, aggrieved, "I – I don't think there's anything I can say that would help." Her arms tightened around him and he reciprocated by squeezing her even closer. "Please don't give up hope, Daitetsu," Ryoko murmured desperately, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his chest. "Momiji said that Kaede had divulged that nothing had changed – so perhaps – there is a reason to hope."

There was a moment of silence.

"A reason to hope," Daitetsu echoed numbly. "That's what she – died - for, isn't it? Momiji said that she came here to protect the baby; that she knew about the baby. She died protecting him. To give us a reason to hope."

It wasn't what Ryoko had meant, but it was something to think about. A reason to hope: an Aragami child. No, not an Aragami child. Not a human child either, but just a child. A child important enough that the gods would protect it, that Kaede would return to the earth once more and suffer in sacrifice for a cause that they had yet to completely discern.

"He must be the key to stopping the Tengugaki," Ryoko mused aloud, "since they were after him.

"Or the key to setting them free," Kunikida added. "But if that is the case, why would Kaede and Susano-oh protect the child if seeking his death would ensure the protection of all humanity?"

"Daitetsu!" Ryoko pulled back, shocked at the implications of his words, and her husband rushed to reassure her.

"I'm not saying that I want the child to die, Ryoko. You should know by now, I would never consider such a thing. I just think there is more to Susano-oh's involvement in this than stopping the Tengugaki, that's all. I just wished to god, I knew what it was."

"Victory!" Sugishita cried, pushing wide the door to the lab, the morgue samples held high as his eyes swept across the empty room. "Hey," he said lowering his arm and looking back over his shoulder at his companions. He stepped further into the room to give Kome and Yaegashi enough room to slide in after him. "Where's Ms. Matsudaira?"

"Shhhh!" came a loud hissing noise from the high-backed chair behind Matsu's desk.

It was turned facing the wall so Sugishita hadn't noticed that someone was sitting in it. As the hissing stopped the chair swiveled around and Sugi's blue eyes widened at the sight of the person sitting there.

"Keep it down, lover boy," Sakura hissed testily, her sandy blonde brows drawn down over her crimson eyes, "I just got this little brat to sleep."

There was a sound of choking coming somewhere from behind Sugishita's left shoulder: Kome trying to hold back a laugh, he realized, and as Sugishita continued to stare in amazement at Sakura, he found himself suffering from the same ailment, a grin cracking his face wide open.

For some reason, the mascara beneath Sakura's right eye had run, giving her the appearance of a black eye, her tight red sweater had white splotches scattered all over the arms and across what he could see of her breasts and in her hair, which was sticking out on both sides, there were what looked like pieces of white tape stuck in it. He'd never seen Sakura look so…smudged and crumpled before, and it made him wish he had a camera.

The sounds of Kome's smothered laughter were soon joined by Yaegashi's nervous giggles, and Sakura's irritated expression became even worse. She began to puff up from anger, looking like she would explode at any moment.

"And what the hell is so funny!?" she sputtered in strident tones. The anger in her face immediately crumpled, though, as she realized, that with her harsh words, she had just managed to startle Noa awake, and he began to whimper, getting ready to howl. "No! No, no, no, no, NO! Dammit!" she all but screeched, leaping to her feet and stomping over to where the three other occupants stood clustered around the door. "Here!" she bawled, thrusting the baby at Kome, "this is all your fault!" she glared, "you take him!"

Kome took the baby and propped him against her shoulder, now laughing opening in Sakura's face.

"You can't blame me for this, Sakura," she replied sardonically, "It was your screeching that woke him up, not mine."

"It was, too, your fault," Sakura huffed, trying ineffectually to brush at the white blobs clinging to the front of her tight sweater.

Now that she was closer and he had a better view, Sugishita could see that the blobs were what looked like baby powder.

"Would you like some help with that, Sakura?" Sugishita asked with a lascivious smile, his eyes level with her bust line as he stepped closer to her and raised a helping hand.

Sakura's furious gaze swung in his direction and her mouth tightened as her crimson eyes flickered down to his large hand, poised in a cup-like gesture, just inches from her right breast. Her eye began to twitch angrily as she focused back on Sugishita's face.

"You touch it, Sugishita, and so help me god, you'll lose it faster than you can say 'unbelievable'!" she hissed.

Sugishita's eyes flew to her face and he whipped his hand away, a sheepish grin spreading across his features.

"Can't blame a guy for trying, can you?" he rationalized.

"When it's you," she bit out, "yes, I can."

"What happened to your eye?" Yaegashi inserted his curiosity finally overcoming his giggles.

"-And your clothes, _and _your hair?" Kome added, unable to resist. "-And where's Matsu?"

"That!" Sakura intoned disgustedly, pointing to Noa, "is what happened. And I have no idea where your lab rat went. She muttered something about killing cows and took off."

"Hunh!?" Yaegashi grunted, confused, looking from Sakura to Kome who was cuddling the now quiet infant. "Killing cows!? But what does that have to do with your eye?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with my eye, you geek. That," she viciously jabbed her finger in Noa's direction again, "is what happened to my eye." Sakura's lips compressed into a thin line and she put her finger up and tried wiping at the smudge beneath her eye, causing it to become worse instead of better. "He squirted me in the eye!"

Kome started to laugh again, as did Yaegashi and Sugishita.

"You mean he peed on you? Kome asked between chuckles.

"Grrrrr! _Stop_… _Laughing_!!!!" Sakura growled and stomped her foot.

There was a loud snapping sound as her shoe smacked against the floor and one of her heels broke off, sending her careening into Sugishita with a loud _eek!_

Suddenly Sugishita found himself blessed with a free handful of what he had been trying to touch just moments earlier as he reached out to steady her. Inadvertently he gave her breast a light squeeze as he tried to set her back on her feet and Sakura shoved hard against him with her fists.

"Who said you could touch me, you jerk!" she harangued, and Noa began to whimper again at the raucous sound of her voice.

"Well it was either that, or let you end up in the floor on your ass!" Sugishita replied.

His hands went up defensively, but he was unable to keep his gaze on her face as his eyes slipped wistfully down to where his hand had been resting and he itched to reach out and give it just one more squeeze….

"Would you two stop it," Kome inserted, stepping into his line of vision and drawing his attention away when she shoved past him, to move into the center of the room, bouncing Noa up and down as she went. "You're scaring the baby with your loud voices."

Sakura's head whipped around and her eyes narrowed as she watched Kome continue across the room to take the chair that she had vacated when they had first come in. "You think I care whether or not that little brat is scared? He deserves to be scared for what he did to me!" she accused waspishly.

"That's what babies do, Sakura," Kome replied derisively, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure that you would have been safe if you had gotten his diaper on a lot sooner. And by the way, the tape goes on the diaper, _not_ in your hair – and the powder, too, is supposed to be for the baby. But it looks like you got that wrong too."

"What the hell would you know about it!" Sakura demanded, her hands fisted by her sides, quivering in rage.

"Not much. In fact, hardly anything at all; but it's still apparently more than you know," Kome shot back, her blue eyes hard and critical.

The two men standing by the door remained silent, their heads swiveling back and forth, watching the two women eye each other murderously. Neither Sugishita nor Yaegashi was sure of what they should do to keep the girls from killing each other, and each was a little hesitant to intervene, for fear of the feminine wrath that such an action might provoke.

"What's going on here?" Ms. Matsudaira demanded, coming through the door and stopping abruptly, a small box clutched in her arms.

"Matsu," Kome greeted her and then asked with a raised eyebrow, "what's this about you killing cows?"

"Killing cows?" Matsu echoed, perplexed.

"Yeah, our talented fortune teller here tells us you muttered something about killing cows before you left."

"I said, chemicals, _chem.-I-_cals, not killing cows!" Matsu explained, looking from Kome to Sakura, her mouth falling open in shock at Sakura's appearance. "My god, Sakura!?" she breathed in a startled voice, her eyes sweeping up and down Sakura's mangled appearance. "What happened to you? When I left, the baby was sleeping – and that was less than twenty minutes ago!"

"Apparently the Kusamikado School didn't teach her how to dodge a whizzing baby. She was struck in the eye with…ahem…our little fountain maker, here," Kome informed Matsu with dry amusement when Sakura failed to respond. "But why should that be surprising, considering that she couldn't even decipher a simple sentence…killing cows…_pppfffft…_ Give me a break," Kome grumbled rolling her eyes yet again. "I should have known better than to listen to her."

"Really!" Matsu's eyes flitted reprovingly back to Sakura. "I've already shown you three times today how to change his diaper. Weren't you paying attention at all?"

"No!" Sakura replied heatedly. Her lip jutted out into a pout as she shifted from one foot to the other, crossing her arms in front of her breasts. "I didn't think I would actually have to do it –"

"Well what did you think I was showing you for?" Matsu demanded impatiently.

With a cool shrug of her shoulders, Sakura looked away.

"I dunno," she responded mutinously, "I didn't really care. I figured that as long as you were here, I would just keep telling you that I wasn't sure how, and you would keep doing it."

Matsu didn't say anything for a long moment, but just continued to eye her critically.

"What's in your hair?" she finally demanded.

"Tape," came the monotone reply.

"I know it's tape," Matsu remarked with asperity, "but where did it come from?"

"From your desk drawer. It was all I could find to use on his diaper," Sakura muttered sourly.

There was the sound of a drawer sliding open and then Kome snorted.

"You used labeling tape on Noa's diaper!? Don't you know that diapers come with tape tabs already, Sakura?" Kome asked scornfully, and then muttered, "Jeez, you really are dumber than a box of rocks."

"She would have, if she had been paying attention to me earlier," Matsu said, shooting a dark look at Sakura.

"Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that you would decide to take off in the middle of what you were doing?" Sakura demanded, defensively, "I mean, every time I see you, you've got your hip glued to your lab table! I bet you would even sleep on it if there were room!! I never expected you to cut out like that and leave me stranded with," she shuddered, "that little brat."

"Oh, give it a break," Kome grumbled and then, looking at Matsu, "I have to say though, Matsu, I'm surprised you'd leave Sakura in charge of Noa. I thought you were a better judge of character than that."

"Well," Matsu replied, finally moving around Sakura to carry the box over to her lab table, "I had to go down to the Konchi Onshitsu Chemical Company to get some things and I thought it was safe to leave him with her for just a few minutes. He was sleeping peacefully when I left," she explained. She began to remove the contents from the box and carefully put it on the table but was unable to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder to shoot Sakura and accusing glance. "Most babies, once they're asleep stay asleep for at least an hour or two. Unless of course, something wakes them up."

Sakura widened her crimson eyes innocently, "I didn't do anything. You think I _wanted_ him to wake up? Hardly!"

"Well that didn't stop you from waking him up when we came in, did it?" Kome noted sardonically.

"Why don't you go blow it out you're a-" Sakura began furiously.

"That's enough!" Matsu cut in sharply, turning around, her dark eyes swinging from Kome to Sakura. "Sakura, why don't you go home? I think that I have more than enough help with these three here, and you look like you need… a fresh change of clothes – and a shower."

But Matsu didn't even get the words all the way out before Sakura was sauntering towards the door, her graceful stride marred by the fact that she was forced to lurch unevenly up and down because of her broken heel.

"Fine by me," she replied in a callous voice, her chin tilting up as she walked by Sugishita, ignoring his lecherous grin.

Just as she left, Ryoko and Kunikida came through the door, Kunikida's head and neck craned backwards and his eyes popping from his head as he watched Sakura limp down the hallway.

"What the!?" Sakura heard him mutter. "What happened to her?"

She had moved too far away to hear the reply that was made, but even as far down the hall as the elevator, it was impossible not to hear Kunikida's shout of laughter as someone filled him in on the status of her appearance. Sakura ground her teeth together in irritation. Oh, how she hated babies, she suddenly decided vehemently. They were nasty little creatures and the only thing that she could think of that she hated more, was looking like…this, she thought, peering down with narrowed eyes at her beautiful sweater, completely ruined and her designer heel, now broken.

And then a deliciously nasty thought struck her and her mouth curved into a malicious smile. All the misery that she had experienced today, would soon belong solely to Momiji. And what was even better was the fact that Momiji would be forced to put up with it continuously, whereas Sakura had only had to suffer through it for several hours.

As the elevator door opened and Sakura lurched inside, she turned to face the door, a sly expression sliding across her freckled features. Finally, she thought triumphantly, Momiji would _finally _get what was coming to her. Sakura's soft, sultry laugh was abruptly cut off as the elevator doors slid closed and the hallway was left empty.

For the fourth time, Murakumo rose from the edge of the bed and for the fourth time he began to prowl restlessly around the room, his handsome face marred by a heavy frown.

Damn that girl! He silently growled. Despite the fact that he had threatened her if she betrayed him, he knew she wasn't afraid of him. So what was to stop her from revealing his presence? Absolutely nothing! He should go after her, he advised himself strongly for what amounted to the same, exact number of times that he had risen from the bed to stalk his thoughts like he wanted to stalk her.

But he couldn't and with a frustrated noise he sat down again, his teeth gritted and his hands clenched. She already knew that he couldn't kill her, and if he went after her now, then she would know that he was weak enough to fear that she would betray him. - And then, he strategized, she would have the upper hand. He couldn't afford to let that happen, so he forced himself to lie down and close his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but _her_.

He managed a few moments of silence before, "Grraaaggh!"

With a jerk, Murakumo sat up, his ribs pulling painfully, but he ignored them. Fuming, he clambered to his feet yet again, but this time, instead of pacing the room, he went to the door and yanked it open, striding silently out into the hall.

"To hell with this," his hissed, ripping the robe from his shoulders, tossing it onto the sofa and stalking out the front door.

He would find her and follow her, he told himself. He just had to make sure that she didn't see him.

Midori stood next to a rack of men's trousers in the department store, a bewildered look on her face.

"Can I help you, miss?" Came a masculine voice from behind her.

Startled, Midori looked over her shoulder to see an unassuming sales clerk standing behind her, a polite expression glued to his face.

Midori bit her lip and began hesitantly, "Well, actually," she looked back at the rack of dark trousers, "I'm not sure what I'm looking for."

"Is this a gift for someone?" Mr. Nondescript asked. He stepped forward to let his hand hover over the rack as he suggested, "Perhaps you will let me assist you in choosing something. If you would just tell me his size?"

Midori winced internally. Jeez, how could buying a pair of pants be so difficult?

"-Well I'm not really sure of his size," Midori began, nervously pressing her fingers together in front of her.

"Well, how - big -is your friend?" The sales clerk asked.

"He's…" Midori broke off, picturing Murakumo in her mind and was unable to stop the color that stained her face, " - bigger than me –"

"Mmmhmmm," replied Mr. Politesse, "could you…be a little more specific?"

Midori looked speculatively at the clerk, "He's bigger than you too. Actually, he's bigger than most people I know."

Midori trailed off helplessly and watched the clerk, knowing that her information was about as useful as a rubber nail was to a carpenter.

The clerk gave her an obsequious sort of smile. "I see. Well why don't we just have a look see, shall we?"

The clerk began rapidly flipping through the trousers and pulled out a pair, holding them up for her approval.

"How's this?"

Midori's mouth fell open in dismay at the gargantuan sized pants that looked like they were made to fit a small car.

"When I said big – what I meant was – tall. He's very tall, not – _BIG_"

"Oh, I see," Mr. Nondescript intoned, an edge to his politeness now.

The clerk cleared his throat superciliously and, refolding the trousers, shot her a look that plainly told her what he thought of her descriptive capabilities. Turning his back to her, he began to rifle through the rack once more, the loud screeching sound of metal on metal as the hangers were sharply pushed aside echoing his professional, but very polite contempt for her.

"What about this, Madame?" He asked, whipping around and holding out a pair of slacks that trailed the ground even though he held them almost at breast level.

"They're fine. - I'll take them," Midori muttered, and grabbed them from him, knowing that they were far too long, but past the point of caring. "And I'll take any others that you might have in this size."

The clerk's mouth fell open. He hadn't really expected her to take them. But she just gave him an expectant look and he turned around and rifled through the rack one more time, pulling out several more pairs and handing them to her. Midori took them from him with a muttered thanks and then went to pay for them.

They were too long, she mentally conceded, but she didn't want to be standing here all day trying to decide which ones weren't. Besides, too long was better than too short; and at least this way, she could hem them herself.

Midori finished paying for them, shoved her money back in her wallet and then remembered that she hadn't gotten Murakumo any shirts. With a groan, she turned away from the counter and began to wander around again looking for shirts. She stayed away from anything tailored and stuck strictly to t-shirts and polos.

Eyeing them critically, she grabbed a handful of those that looked like they might fit and hurriedly paid for those as well, irritated at herself for being so helpful to him. She took her change from the clerk and jerked the bags from the counter. She'd better get home quickly, she thought to herself, before the arrogant jerk tried something else while she was gone.

Stepping out into the cold sunshine, Midori shivered a little and began walking rapidly down the sidewalk, cursing herself for wearing a skirt on such a cold day and doubly cursing herself for leaving the house so quickly that she had forgotten her coat.

Her car wasn't far though, she reassured herself as her teeth clacked together and she sped up a little, wanting to be there already. She hadn't gone very far, however, when she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in dismay as she recognized the person coming down the street in the opposite direction.

It was her mother.

What was she going to do? She moaned anxiously to herself. Her mother thought she was back in Tokyo and if she saw her here – Midori began to quake in her shoes at that thought. She had to hide, and quick, she concluded, her gaze flipping furtively towards the alley next to the department store.

Throwing her body to the side, she ducked down the darkened alley, the tall buildings surrounding it blocking out most of the morning sun. She skittered along it's narrow path, occasionally looking back over her should to see how far she had gone, each time realizing it wasn't far enough. If her mother happened to glance down the alley as she walked past it, she would be able to see Midori and so Midori pressed onward, absently stepping around the occasional heaps of discarded trash until the narrow path took an abrupt turn and continued on to the right.

With one last look over her shoulder to make sure that her mother hadn't seen her, Midori turned the corner and wheeled around, breathing heavily. She leaned her shoulder against the rough stone of the building and peeked around the corner, watching the people walking to and fro along the sidewalk in front of the alley, waiting to see the familiar short figure of her mother before even thinking of returning to the street.

Just seconds later, Midori saw her mother pass and she breathed a sigh of relief when her mother walked by the opening, her gaze straight ahead without turning to look in the direction where her daughter stood hiding from her.

Once the crisis had passed, Midori leaned weakly against the building, her knees a little wobbly and closed her eyes. Blast you Murakumo, she thought bitterly. But deep inside she knew that this was not Murakumo's fault. It was hers for listening to her heart instead of informing the TAC of his presence like she knew she should.

"Well, what do we have here, boys?" came a sly gravelly voice from close behind her.

Midori's brown eyes snapped open and she stiffened. Pulling away from the wall, she turned her head and looked over her shoulder, wariness filling her eyes when she saw three young men wearing gang colors standing just a few feet away from her. She had been so absorbed in hiding that she hadn't even realized that she wasn't alone.

"Are you lost, little girl?" One of them asked her insolently, his eyes sliding up her legs over her breasts and across her face, a mockery of a smile twisting his stubbly face.

"Or did you just come to play with us?" another one asked, taking a step in her direction, a hungry gleam in his eye.

Midori remained mute as she felt a frisson of fear begin to creep along her spine, seeing the violent menace that was clearly reflected in their eyes. She took a step back, towards the direction she had come and the first one that had spoken gave a hard laugh.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets. "We want you to stay and play with us, don't we boys?"

The other two just chuckled and all three of them began to walk slowly towards her. Midori's mouth went dry and she took another step back.

"What do you want?" she croaked.

But not one of them answered her.

"What's in the bags?" the third one finally asked as they continued to advance.

Midori looked down at the bags clutched tightly in her hands and she abruptly dropped them, her purse included.

"Here, take it. Just leave me alone," she mumbled hoping that they would do as she asked.

The first youth, the leader apparently, motioned to the others to look and see what was in the bags and they stopped moving, crouching to go through her things. But the leader continued in her direction, his eyes sweeping over her in an insulting way.

"What's the matter, pretty lady?" he asked her, "we just want to play. You're not – afraid – to stay and play with us, are you?"

His gaze dropped to her breasts and Midori fought the urge to cover them with her arms to protect them from his eyes, knowing that if she did, she would only be giving him the reaction he was looking for.

Midori took one more, slow step backwards, thinking swiftly. Her eyes swung away from him to the other two youths who had abandoned her shopping bags and were now going through her purse. If she tried to run, it would take a few second for them to realize it, which would give her a head start. But the other one, the leader, was a different story. He was much too close and he would be the one she had to worry about if she tried to run, she concluded.

Midori brought her brown eyes back to the leader, trying to assess her chances of outrunning him. He was young; maybe fifteen or sixteen at the most, and wiry; but he wasn't much taller than she was. Midori took another step backwards, trying to maintain the distance between them as he moved inexorably in her direction. If she made a break for it, she might be able to outrun him and make it to the street, she hesitantly concluded.

But even if he had been twice as tall as she, she would have reached the same conclusion. She sure as heck wasn't about to stand there and willingly let him take advantage of her; that was for certain.

With that thought in mind, and without warning, Midori spun around and bolted around the corner, running as fast as her feet would carry her. Her flat-soled shoes pounded hard against the pavement, the shock of impact stinging the bottom of her feet as she fled. She heard the young leader spit out a string of obscenities, but she didn't turn to look at him as he gave chase, hearing his footfalls pounding after her, getting closer. He was going to catch her, came the panicked thought, and she leaned forward, trying desperately to evade him.

"Leave that crap and go after her!" he shouted over his shoulder to the other two.

Midori managed to make it as far as the middle of the alley. Then her head was viciously snapped backwards, and she was brought to a stand still as the leader grabbed a fist full of hair and yanked her to a halt.

His fingers bit into her scalp, but Midori ignored the pain knowing that far worse lay in store is she didn't get away. Twisting around, she swung her hand up and raked her long fingernails across his cheek.

"You bitch!" he growled, "you're gonna pay for that!"

He had reared back and had let her go but Midori didn't get any farther; her way now blocked by the other two gang members. Trapped like an animal, her brown eyes reflected her fear as she gazed from the hard faces of each youth. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flash of silver as it came arcing toward her.

Jerking around, she saw the knife of the leader plunging towards her face a split second before it cut into her. Instinctively, Midori threw her hands up and tried to take a step back, away from the blade, but she was unable to avoid it.

With a cry, she felt it slash deeply across the palm protecting her face and then bite into her arm, cutting through her shirt like paper, as the leader brought the blade forward and back again in a slashing motion.

Her breath coming in gasps from fear and pain, Midori felt harsh hands grab her shoulders, as the other two gang members, laughing roughly, held her immobile, and she watched, whimpering, as the leader advanced towards her, pressing the point of the blade, now glistening red with her blood, against the thin material of her shirt, pricking the expanse of skin between her breast.

The leader leaned towards her until there was only a few inches that separated their faces, the red gash marks that Midori's nails had made, standing out on his face as she stared at him, terrified. There was a gloating look in his eyes as he smiled a feral smile and his blade trailed upwards, scraping against her skin, until it was pressed against her neck.

"You shouldn't have hurt me, little girlie girl," he sneered and the other two laughed as he leaned forward to press a hard kiss against her lips, before breaking away to look into her eyes, his own eyes full of malicious intent. "Now you're gonna have to play with us whether you like it or not," he menaced.

Midori whimpered again as she felt the fingers from his free hand touch her leg, trailing upwards until it was beneath her skirt and he grasped her thigh in a hard grip, his smile widening at her small sound of distress.

"Let me go!" she cried, beginning to struggle wildly.

All three of them laughed, and the two holding her tightened their grip against her, making her struggles useless. A scream rose in Midori's throat as she felt the leader's hand slide to her underwear, but before he could yank it down there was a vibrating, buzzing sound and the two youths holding her suddenly stiffened. With strange choking sounds, their faces went slack and they collapsed to the ground.

Suddenly free, Midori watched, her eyes wide with shock, as thin streams of blue light crackled around her and converged on the youth standing in front of her, hitting him in the shoulders with such force that he dropped his knife and was driven backwards.

"What the hell?" the gang leader muttered, looking over Midori's shoulder, and backing warily away.

Midori slowly turned her head and her mouth fell open when she spied Murakumo standing a few feet behind her. His long hair flowed over his shoulders and, despite the cold air, he was dressed in nothing but his battered trousers; the bright blue of his mitamas standing out against the pale skin of his chest.


	22. 21: The Human Condition

21. The Human Condition

WARNING WARNING

Danger Danger, Will Robinson: The Following Chapter Contains Mature Situations and Adult Content. -_- You have been duly warned.

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

Murakumo slowly sauntered forward. Despite the waves of raven hair partially obscuring his face, the twist of his mocking smile was clearly evident to Midori. She swiveled her head, her mouth still gaping, following his casual movement as he walked past her, completely ignoring her.

"I'm sorry," Murakumo intoned, his deep voice reflecting not regret but scorn, " - but she's far too valuable to me to have her used and discarded by the likes of you!"

Murakumo flexed his hand and there was a ring of steel as the blade slid from his arm. The gang leader's mouth dropped open, his eyes widening in disbelief as he continued to back pedal, scrambling to get away from Murakumo.

"Where the hell did you come from?" his voice cracked in panic.

"Disgusting human," Murakumo uttered contemptuously, the twist to his lips becoming more prominent as he came to a stop, his hair swinging away from his face, revealing the coldness of both of his grey eyes as he stared down at the youth who had tripped and fallen in his haste to flee. "Even if I were to tell you, your pathetically tiny brain would be unable to comprehend it, so I'll just spare myself the effort and kill you now!"

Murakumo raised his hand, angling the blade down, preparing to run it through the now blubbering gang leader. But before he could thrust forward, he felt a heavy weight pull on his arm from behind and he sharply turned his head to see Midori standing there. She was leaning backwards, her hands wrapped around his upper arm tugging on it with all her might to keep it from following its natural downward motion.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes suddenly burning with fury as he looked down into her unnaturally white face.

Midori's wide, brown eyes swung away from him and she looked at the cowering boy still lying on the ground.

"What are you waiting for!?" she yelled at him, and then grimaced when white hot pain shot through her bloodied hand and up her arm as Murakumo tried to shake her loose. "Get out of here!" she choked, and watched as the boy scrambled to his feet, and, without looking back, took off down the alley.

"Let go of me, you stupid girl!" Murakumo snarled.

He brought his other hand up, roughly prying at her fingers and easily broke free, but by now, the youth could no longer be seen, having disappeared around the corner, and Murakumo swore loudly. He started to move forward but his progress was further impeded when Midori launched herself at his middle, the warmth of her body colliding against the chill of his skin. She clung to him like a limpet and Murakumo heard her quick intake of breath as her leg banged hard against the blade in his hand.

"What are you doing!?" he demanded, but pulling his arm away from her and retracting the blade before she further damaged herself. "Let go, Midori! I must go after him."

"Why?" she cried, her voice throbbing with suppressed emotion, "so you can kill him like you killed the other two!?"

"They're not dead," he told her through clenched teeth, trying to push her away, "at least not yet, but they soon will be. Now let go!"

With both hands he grabbed her arms and she cried out in pain. He immediately let go of her and looked down at the wetness against the palm of his hand. It was stained bright red with her blood.

"Let go Midori," he demanded again, but with less anger this time, "you're bleeding all over me."

"I – I can't!" she replied brokenly, "I won't let you kill them!"

Murakumo stiffened and he abruptly glanced down at the top of her head, his steel grey eyes narrowing in anger.

"Why are you protecting these nauseating mongrels when they would have raped you and discarded you like the rest of the disgusting filth in this alleyway?" he demanded, her reasoning once again defying his logic.

"I'm not doing it for them! I was doing it because –" Midori babbled before breaking her words off in a loud gulp. She bit her lip and took a steadying breath before finally managing to respond in a calmer voice, "If you kill them, then you're no better than they are."

Murakumo didn't say anything for a long moment, and Midori continued to cling to him, but her hold was weakening as her body began to tremble in delayed shock. Her arms jerked against him even though she tried to hold them steady.

"How dare you compare me to such human waste," Murakumo seethed in resentment, staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware of her weakness.

A few more seconds and she would be on the ground, Midori thought rapidly, and so, as a last ditch effort, she blurted out, "I'll let you go, if you give me your word that you'll not go after them."

Murakumo didn't say anything and Midori's arms slid a few inches lower against his waist. Despite her effort to squeeze them tightly together, she was slowly being pulled to the ground by the weight of her body, her shaky legs unable to hold her up any more.

Please, Murakumo." A note of desperation entered her voice and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to force herself to remain upright through sheer willpower alone.

"Why should I even consider letting them live?" he muttered sullenly, mostly to himself, feeling his intent wavering because of her beseeching request.

"To prove to me that you are the king of Aragami," Midori continued desperately, openly her eyes and looking up at his jaw line. "To show me that you are better than they are "

"The Aragami have no mercy for humans, for they do not deserve any," Murakumo replied harshly.

His gaze once again swung down to her, into her imploring brown eyes, and he felt an uncomfortable sensation begin to assail him. It made him want to push her away but for some odd reason he found he could not.

"Please," Midori beseeched, her bottom lip trembling along with the rest of her, wanting to see his expression soften, wanting him to show her that part of him that he kept hidden from everyone.

You're trusting in a lie, her brain whispered to her when he just stood there, the harshness of his expression unrelenting as his cold grey eyes met hers in an unflinching stare. _The part of him that you're looking for doesn't exist; you only wish it did_. _You've been a fool to believe it,_ came the thought, and tears began to crowd the corners of her eyes. But then there was a flash of something in the steel of his eyes and he looked sharply away from her.

"Very well," he relented reluctantly, but his expression remained remote and unmoving, "to prove to you that I am superior to you humans in every way, I will let them live." He stopped speaking and clenched his hands in anger against himself for letting this silly female's tears affect his decision.

What was happening to him that he would let human emotion get in the way of his determination? He didn't know, but he didn't like it..

"Now let go of me," he demanded glacially, disliking the warmth of her body, knowing that the feel of it pressed against him had only magnified the effect of her tears. "You're bleeding all over me," he reiterated.

Normally his callous remark would have angered Midori, but she was too busy trying not to pass out to be worried about Murakumo's unfeeling behavior. Instead she let go of him, and staggered drunkenly away, clamping her lacerated hand around the cut on her arm, to try and staunch the bleeding of both.

Fighting for her balance, she gritted her teeth against the pain and swayed on her feet, stepping back to lean against the stone side of the building while Murakumo turned and took several long strides away from her. After a few moments, some of her weakness subsided and she focused her attention on the long strands of jet - black hair flowing down Murakumo's bare back as she gave him an assessing look.

He seemed much stronger than he had been even as late as this morning when she had left him at her brother's house, she mused. And despite his lack of clothing, he didn't appear to be suffering from the effects of the frigid weather, either. But despite his appearance Midori couldn't help remembering the coldness of his skin next to hers and she began to worry. He shouldn't be out here, she silently fretted, and wondered why he was.

"What are you doing here?" She blurted the question out before she realized she had asked it and wasn't surprised when he didn't answer

"What in god's name possessed you to come down here?" Murakumo asked instead, his voice reflecting his disgust as he looked around at the dirty, squalid filth that littered the alley.

She must have been getting ready to betray him to someone she was to have met here, he concluded, answering his own question before she spoke. It was the only reason that made any sense to him - until she gave him another.

"I was hiding," she replied after a long moment.

Murakumo looked over his shoulder at her in surprise, his brows soaring high over his grey eyes. "From whom?"

"My mother," she briefly responded, dropping her gaze to the ground, her hand, still clamped tightly around her arm, now beginning to throb painfully from the pressure.

"Why?" Murakumo wondered aloud.

"Because I'm not supposed to be in Ise, that's why," Midori told him flatly, still refusing to look at him, irritated with herself for being too soft to turn him in.

Murakumo felt a jolt of surprise at her response and he struggled not to show it as the ramifications of her statement hit him. She had been trying to protect him, he realized with a start. Did that mean that the intent of his threats had succeeded? That she was afraid of him? Looking at her standing there now, the sweep of long dark lashes resting against her pale cheeks as she avoided his gaze, he found it difficult if not impossible to believe that that was the reason.

There was no fear in her face, no sign of intimidation whatsoever.

But what other reason could there possibly be?

Growing uncomfortable beneath Murakumo's steady gaze, Midori pushed herself from the side of the building, and trying to further evade his inquisitive stare, she swiveled away from him to stagger down the alley on rubbery legs towards where she had abandoned her things.

As she stumbled along, she peeled her hand away from her arm and looked down at it, assessing the damage to it. The gash was deep, running the entire length of her palm and it was steadily oozing, unlike her arm, which, she was thankful to discover was not as bad as her hand; the bleeding from it almost stopped completely.

Turning the corner to the alley, Midori crouched down and retrieved her things, shoving the contents of her handbag that had been scattered across the ground back into her purse. Then she reached into one of the bags and pulled out a black polo shirt, holding it out to Murakumo who had followed her around the corner.

"Here," she muttered and then added impatiently when he just stared at it, "would you just take it already, before you have a chance to tell me that I'm bleeding all over it?"

Shooting her a nasty look, Murakumo reached out and snatched it away from her. As he quickly dropped it over his head, Midori was relieved to see that she had done a good job of guessing his size for it fit almost perfectly.

A little too perfectly, actually, she thought resentfully, noting how the fabric stretched taught across the broad muscles of his shoulders and accentuated the smooth contours of his chest.

Irritated with herself for noticing, Midori forced her attention back to her things and rummaged around in the bag one more time. With a regretful sigh, she pulled out one of the t -shirts she had just purchased for Murakumo. Using her teeth and her uninjured hand, she proceeded to tear several longs strips from it so she could wrap them around her arm and her hand, her movements watched by a sullenly quiet Murakumo.

She did her best to ignore his presence while she wound the fabric tightly around her wounds and as she worked she was unable to stifle the thought that she had just fashioned a rather expensive band-aid, and felt a stab of regret at the waste of her hard earned money.

Once she was finished tying the clumsy knots she had made, she tried to rise to her feet but found it difficult, almost keeling over onto her side, her legs still rubbery around the knees. Putting a steadying hand to the ground to keep herself from toppling sideways, she was surprised to find Murakumo's fingers wrapped beneath her elbow. Her startled eyes shot to his expressionless face as he hauled her to her feet and she collided against the hard muscle of his chest, feeling the bottom drop out of her stomach as he held her against him for a split second longer than was necessary.

Abruptly he released her but made no move to put any distance between them, so she did it for him, her gaze dropping to the ground as she moved away, squelching the desire to lean into him and sternly reminding herself that he had a family waiting for him somewhere.

"How did you get here?" Midori asked over her shoulder as she swung away from him and began to weave her way up the alley until, once again, Murakumo put a steadying hand beneath her elbow to help guide her.

Well, he sure as hell hadn't flown here, he thought acerbically, since his mitama still wasn't restored enough to allow flight. Instead he had adopted the same manner that that imperfect soul, Kusanagi had used before he had absorbed his eighth mitama. And a damn inconvenience it had been too; having to flit from rooftop to rooftop, like a common insect.

"I walked," came his short reply, making his voice as uninviting as possible, hoping to avoid having to answer any more of her questions.

"You walked?" She echoed incredulously, her brown eyes glued to his stony profile, "fifteen miles?" She looked down at her watch, a look of skepticism written across her plain features. She hadn't been gone long enough for him to have walked all the way here. "Impossible!" she mumbled faintly.

"Only impossible for you puny humans," he coolly rejoined, still not looking at her and she just snorted bitterly and tried to jerk her arm free from his hold, but he wouldn't turn her loose.

"Let go!" she muttered furiously but he only gave her a mocking laugh and ignored her, propelling her around the prone bodies of the two remaining gang members, out of the alley and along the sidewalk.

"Where is your car?" he asked her, walking briskly, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that her feet kept getting tangled together as she fought him and he was almost dragging her alongside him.

After a few more tugs, Midori gave up, too dispirited to fight any more and pointed to her little car parked a few feet away. Murakumo stopped by the curb and stared at it before turning his cool grey eyes to her, giving her an assessing look.

"Can you drive?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in inquiry, finally letting go of her.

'Of course," she replied with a nonchalance she was far from feeling.

Murakumo just stood there, looking expectantly at her and she finally turned and tried to insert the key into the car door, her hand shaking so badly that it took several tries before she finally got it in far enough to turn it. Thankfully, Murakumo refrained from making any of his usual condescending remarks, and Midori snuck a peek at him before she climbed into the car to see him staring impassively down at her from the curb.

"Aren't you going to get in?" she asked after a minute when he had still refused to move.

He looked away from her then, staring off in the distance, his eyes narrowed against the midday sun. "No."

Did she honestly think he would ride in such a filthy, disgusting, human contraption that did nothing but belch fumes and disrupted the flow of nature? He thought scornfully. He would rather die first.

"No?" Midori echoed, her eyes widening in panic.

Was he planning on leaving then? She thought frantically. He couldn't! His mitama still wasn't healed and he would be vulnerable – but Midori clamped down on her thoughts, trying to stifle the rising tide of alarm that swelled inside her. If he left, then that would simplify her life tremendously, she told herself repressively. Why should she worry what happened to him? No, she mentally rectified; she _refused_ to worry about him.

Midori glanced away from him then to stare woodenly through the windshield, turning the key in the ignition, and then placing her hand on the wheel as the engine purred to life. Driving home was not going to be easy, but that concern took a backseat to the turmoil she was currently experiencing over Murakumo.

"Well, then," she mumbled through numb lips, "goodbye."

And then she put the car in gear and drove off, making herself stare straight ahead without looking back, her chest heaving with the sadness she refused to yield to. She drove all the way back to her brother's house in a fog, only dimly aware of the constant throbbing in her hand and the tight ache in her arm which compared not at all to the funny feeling she had in the middle of her chest.

She pulled up into the drive, switched the ignition off and sat, motionless, behind the wheel for several moments, staring at the front of the house with unseeing eyes, unable to get the blasted, royal jerk out of her mind. Finally she managed to force herself out of her reverie, knowing that she needed to go in to attend to her wounds. The makeshift bandage she had wrapped around her palm was now bloodied all the way through. Reaching over, she grabbed up her things and pulled them from the car, her lips twisting sardonically as she realized that she now had no need for all the things that she had just purchased.

"Fool," she muttered viciously to herself, "Midori, you're just a stupid fool to be enchanted by a pretty face that hides nothing but a cold soul," she condemned harshly as she opened her brother's front door and stepped through, pushing it closed behind her.

But he's not cold, a voice somewhere deep inside argued. _Didn't he save you life this afternoon? _It demanded, and she realized with a start that he _had_ indeed saved her life this afternoon.

Why? Why would he do that?

The question plagued her as Midori dropped her bags and her purse on the desk chair next to the door and with automatic motions, headed into the kitchen, lost in thought. Why had he come there in the first place? She stared blankly at the cabinets and couldn't come up with any logical reasons and so with a tired sigh, she tried to push her troublesome thoughts away, since they were useless at this point anyway.

Reaching over the sink, Midori opened the cabinet and took out a square box that contained thick rolls of gauze, tape, antiseptic and various other miscellaneous medical supplies: her first aid kit; the one she had made when she had first brought Murakumo – Midori winced at the thought, breaking it off before she completed it and forced herself to focus on what she was doing.

Emptying her mind of everything, she turned her attention to the box. Placing the kit on the counter next to the sink, she took the lid off, removing the things she needed and arranged them neatly along the counter next to the box. Then she looked down and began to unbutton her shirt to remove it, her right hand, now stiff as well as painful, offering her left little assistance with the buttons.

Finally, she managed to pull the last button free, and she shrugged out of her blouse and dropped it on the counter, picking up a pair of small, sharply curved scissors at the same time to bring them up to the bloodied jersey wrapped around her upper left arm. Biting her lip against the groan that rose in her throat as she tried to use the scissors, Midori managed to cut through the knots holding the hastily fashioned bandage in place. With a shaky breath, she set the scissors on the counter and then slowly began to unwind the material. Once her arm lay bare, she examined it closely, and then cleaned the slash before applying the antiseptic. Her hands were trembling now, from the pain of the effort of having to use her right hand, and because of that, her effort to re-wrap her arm with clean gauze, were clumsy in the extreme.

By the time she was done, she had broken out into a cold sweat, and her knees were once again knocking together. Midori leaned weakly against the counter for a moment before she even contemplated starting on her hand, waiting for the momentary weakness to subside and hoping that the throbbing in her hand would ease off some before she had to work on it.

She needed to sit down, she told herself weakly and she pushed away from the counter, turning towards the center of the room. She had only taken one step towards the table, when from the corner of her eye; something out of place caught her attention.

She turned her head, her eyes widening and she gasped. Murakumo stood framed within the doorway, quietly staring at her, his hair pushed away from his face so that she could see both of his steel grey eyes. They moved from her face to the bare skin of her chest, now only covered by her bra, and Midori turned sharply away, her face flaming with color.

"W-what?" she began, hastily grabbing her shirt off the counter and pulling it on, struggling to re-button it with one hand.

She bit her lip in concentration, her dark brows knitting above her brown eyes as she secured the buttons, feeling more than slightly perturbed and wondering how long he had been standing there.

"I didn't think you would be coming back," she finally managed as she slid the last button in place and picked up her things, getting ready to carry them to the table.

She turned as she spoke and collided against him with a gasp, not realizing that he had come to stand directly behind her. Midori jumped, startled by his closeness, and felt her breath sputter to a halt in her chest. She remained motionless next to him for a split second, staring at the black clad expanse of his chest before moving abruptly away, going around him to the table.

"Why would you think that?" he questioned idly.

His voice showed little interest as he poked around in her first aid kit, and it made Midori wonder why he had even bothered to ask her.

"Well," Midori began, sucking in her breath as she unwound the binding around her hand and began to cleanse the wound, "what else was I to think when you didn't want to ride back with me?"

Murakumo laughed scornfully at her artless observation and Midori momentarily ceased what she was doing to look over her shoulder at him. He had abandoned his curiosity of the kit and was now leaning against the counter, his arms folded across his chest and his legs crossed over one another. There was a mocking smile twisting his lips and his grey eyes glinted with the same mockery.

"How could you even think that I would wish to ride is such a disgusting human device? It is a symbol of all that I despise, defiling the air and the earth just like you pathetic humans!" he sneered.

Midori didn't say anything, but just gave him a considering look before turning back and finishing her hand. Then she slowly got up, picking up the antiseptic and the gauze and carrying them back over to the counter to put them back in the box. There was a problem though, she thought as she approached the counter. Murakumo was in the way.

Midori slowed her steps, skittishly sidling up to him and shot him a furtive look. He was leaning on the counter in front of the box and she would have to reach around him if she wanted to get it. Trying the indirect approach first, she looked up at him expectantly, attempting to convey her wish that he would move, but he just looked back at her, his eyebrows raised in inquiry, not budging.

Midori sighed deeply, knowing better than to ask him to move and so, as quickly as she could, she reached around him and snagged the box, sliding it along the counter until it was in front of her while Murakumo just watched her, a strange intensity in his gaze.

Midori fingered the box, lost in thought, thinking about his timely arrival at the alley earlier, and then abruptly turned to him.

"I never thanked you for coming to my rescue today…" she began and tried not to feel the sting of his reply.

"If I had let them kill you, then who would treat my mitama?"

Midori looked away then and didn't answer, knowing that there was truth in what he said. But she also couldn't help feeling that that hadn't been the only reason; he just didn't want to admit to her, or maybe even to himself that there was something beyond that reason.

"Why do you hate humans so much?" she asked quietly as she put everything back into the box.

Murakumo snorted as if to say the answer to her question was obvious. "Because you are filthy, selfish creatures," he replied caustically, "with little regard to anything except your own well being and physical comfort."

"You don't really think that we're all like that do you?" Midori asked, her brown eyes searching his unrelenting expression, "You do think that," she murmured incredulously.

"I have never seen anything to prove otherwise," Murakumo replied dismissively, looking away from her to stare straight ahead.

"That's only because you haven't looked," Midori retorted. "Do you think that I dragged you all the way back here from the iwatto because I thought it was fun?" she demanded and she watched his jaw begin to tighten in anger, "you are such an arrogant jerk!" she fumed, "to think that your race is any different from humans! –"

She jumped then when he abruptly turned on her and pushed her back hard up against the counter.

"Enough!" he roared, "I will not tolerate your wayward comments anymore! How dare you compare our superior race to your puny existence!"

"Superior!?" she shouted back, her big, brown eyes sparking with anger. "Since when is being an arrogant, intolerant jerk considered as superior? The only thing you're superior at is showing what an ass you can be!" She railed and then her eyes widened in alarm.

He was doing it again, she thought in panic, crowding closer to her, overwhelming her. With a whimper, she pulled her body inwards, trying to keep from touching him, but it was impossible. He put his hands on the counter next to her, forming a cage around her and she dropped her gaze away from his face, which had taken on that intense expression once more. She stared at the buttons on his shirt, trying to stand perfectly still and catch her breath, which had suddenly hitched inside her chest.

"What's the matter, Midori," he asked in a low, silky voice, "have you nothing else to say? No other insults to throw at me?"

He raised his hand and cupped her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. Midori gazed warily at him, feeling her body respond against her will to the heat she saw in his grey eyes and the small, sly seductive smirk that was beginning to curve his lips. He began to lean forward and Midori's panic turned into raging alarm. No! she thought, this isn't right! He has a family!

"Stop," she begged, as he closed the distance between them, bringing his lips just inches away from hers.

He hesitated, hovering close to her, and the molten heat of his steel eyes held her mesmerized as they stared into her brown ones. Letting go of her face, he reached down and took her hand. He brought it up and placed it against his chest, letting his hand cover hers to keep her from removing it.

"Do you really want me to stop?" he murmured, his voice a low purr and he let his lips brush against hers.

"Y-yes," Midori whispered brokenly, the heat beginning to rise in her veins.

"Well, then," he mouthed, his warm lips continuing to caress hers as his hand, which still held hers captive, pressed hers against his chest, "push me away, like you did before."

His tongue flicked out and touched her lips and Midori fought to keep her eyes open and her senses about her as her chest began to rise and fall rapidly from his seductive onslaught.

"Aren't you going to push me away?" Murakumo questioned softly, finally breaking the kiss.

Seeing the entranced look on her face, he smiled triumphantly. Finally he let his hand slide away from hers to lightly grip her waist and he bent his head and began to nuzzle against the soft warm skin of her neck. Midori's head fell back, her eyes half-closed and unfocused, and her mouth opened in a silent moan.

"This is your last chance, Midori," Murakumo murmured softly against her ear as he continued to nuzzle her, "push me away, or I'm not going to stop."

He caught her earlobe between his teeth and gently tugged and Midori felt a shiver race up her spine. She made a breathless sound and the hand pressed against his chest, instead of pushing him away, tightened into a fist, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. Murakumo gave a low, sultry laugh.

"I didn't think so," he crowed softly, his eyes bright with want as he stared down at her upturned face.

When Murakumo had returned to find her standing unaware of his presence and only partially dressed, he had given up trying to fight the lust he felt for her. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. A raging animal instinct; not an emotion, he had rationalized and he need not despise himself for something that was only natural for this human body he now possessed. And so, he had decided, he was determined to have her, to satisfy the fires that raged within him by joining his body with hers.

Then perhaps he could rid himself of his fascination with her.

Murakumo's fingers tightened at her waist and he put his other hand around her back, pulling her tightly against him. Leaning forward, he brought his lips to hers in another kiss, but this one was far different than the last. It was fierce, hungry and demanding and it left Midori weak at the knees. With a low moan, she returned his kiss, her lips just as demanding and hungry, unable to satisfy the burning sensations flooding through her.

As their tongues mingled together, Midori felt Murakumo's grip loosen around her waist and his hand began to glide downwards until it was resting against the smoothness of her bare skin below her skirt. Then slowly, he began to trail it upwards, pushing her skirt up along as he went and curving around to the front to gently stroke her, feeling the damp heat of her body even through the fabric of her panties.

She was ready, he thought, his mouth now exploring her jaw and neck, and he didn't want to wait any longer.

Still holding her to him with one hand, he reached down and unbuttoned his pants, freeing himself from his trousers. Then with impatient fingers her reached up and pushed the barrier of Midori's underwear to the side so he could stroke the soft petals of her femininity and he stifled a groan when he realized just how ready she was. Finally he let go of her back, bringing his hand around to hook it beneath her knee and lift her leg upwards, pulling her lower body towards his and opening her to the part of his body that craved entrance to hers.

Quickly positioning himself between her thighs he thrust deeply into her and abruptly stopped, raising his face to look at her when she stiffened and cried out.

"What?" he began, feeling suddenly confused, "- why did you do that?"

Midori opened her eyes and looked at him, her mouth pulled into a grimace, "Because it hurt!"

"Why?" Murakumo wanted to know, his body remaining inside hers, still not understanding.

"Because I was a VIRGIN, you idiot!" she informed him, her face turning bright red.

"A virgin," Murakumo echoed, casting his mind back to when he had taken Hikaru for the first time.

She had cried too, but then she had cried every time they had had sex, and her tears had never seemed to be tears of pain. But, he thought, trying hard to remember that first time, - something that he was finding difficult to do, because he had convinced himself it wasn't worth remembering – their first coupling had been slightly different than the others. And now that he reflected upon it, her reaction had been one of pain as well. But it hadn't seemed to last.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I didn't know."

Murakumo's face, for once was reflecting something other than indifference or arrogance; and if Midori didn't know better, she could have sworn it was concern that she saw shadowed within his steel grey eyes.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed and awkward because their bodies were still joined together, Midori looked away from his face, and mumbled back, "How were you to know?"

He hadn't wanted to hurt her, he thought, as he watched her look away and sensed her shy awkwardness, but he wasn't ready to let her go. His hand tightened under her knee and he pulled her even tighter against him, his other hand cradling her against him, pulling her face against his chest. With slow tentative strokes he began to move inside her, his senses attentive to her body, looking for the first signs of discomfort.

After a few strokes Midori stiffened again, a low moan in her throat, and Murakumo stopped once more, his arm tightening around her.

"Does it still hurt?" he wanted to know, struggling to hold himself still inside her.

"N-n-no," Midori moaned against his chest, her eyes closed.

Then suddenly he let go of her and pulled free, breaking the contact between them and Midori, opened her eyes, feeling suddenly hurt and bewildered. Why had he taken her virginity and then stopped? She asked herself. Was it just to humiliate her? But before her brain could formulate a response, she found herself swept up into his arms and carried from the room.

Midori put her hands around his neck and pressed her face against him, his soft raven hair smooth her cheek. Murakumo carried her to her brother's bedroom; the bedroom she had been using while she had been attending him, and stopped in the doorway, staring at the huge bed in the center of the room.

Then he looked down at the top of Midori's head, his lips quirked derisively. "Selfish girl," he chided softly, "what does such a small human need with such a big bed? Such a bed is better suited for the likes of me."

Midori's head whipped up and she looked from him to the bed, knowing he was thinking about the tiny mattress he had been forced to endure for the past week. "I – I'm sorry," she whispered contritely.

Murakumo offered no response as he carried her into the room and gently settled her in the middle of the bed before stepping back to remove his shirt.

Bringing her legs up beneath her, Midori sat on the bed and, with wide eyes, watched him pull the black fabric over his head and toss it to the floor, his grey eyes coming to rest intently upon her face when he was done. Midori held his gaze until he reached for his pants and then she looked away, reaching up, twisting her finger in the short locks of brown hair that brushed against her cheek.

"I re-really am sorry about the bed," Midori babbled, hearing the soft rustle of fabric as Murakumo's pants joined his shirt in a pile on the floor. "I just thought that it would be better for you to be in my room – it gets more sunlight, you see, and –"

But apparently he wasn't interested in her explanations for he climbed onto the bed, his long dark hair trailing like black satin against the paleness of his broad chest as he slid over next to her and he wrapped his hands around her face pulling her towards him to kiss her hungrily, effectively silencing her words.

Midori moaned into his mouth and Murakumo's hands went to her blouse, quickly sliding the buttons free and slipping it off her shoulders, careful not to hurt her wounded arm, and throwing it into the floor on top of his clothes. Her bra followed next and she arched her back as his hands came up to cup her breasts, caressing her until the nipples hardened in response. Pulling her close so that the warmth of her skin brushed against his, he pushed her backwards, laying her against the softness of the mattress, and he let his lips explore her body as he worked his way down to the flat of her stomach and the waistband of her skirt.

Midori writhed beneath the onslaught of his feather soft touch and was hardly aware when he reached beneath her and unzipped her skirt, sliding it down her hips along with her underwear. Murakumo lifted his mouth away from her stomach to throw the rest of her clothes on the growing pile and with a start, Midori opened her eyes, realizing for the first time that she was completely naked.

Midori's brown eyes flew to Murakumo's grey ones. His eyes were sliding over her, and Midori suddenly felt horribly inadequate next to the beauty of his perfectly sculpted body and the symmetry of his handsome face. She wanted to cover her plainness from him, sharply feeling the glaring differences between them. She brought her hands up but before she could cover herself, he captured them within one of his own, his eyes coming back to hers.

"What a beautiful body you have, Midori," he whispered, letting his free hand skim softly up her leg, his brow knitting into a frown as he reached her upper thigh, where his fingers hovered, brushing against her in a circle. "- except for here," he murmured, tracing the smudge-like bruises that the gang leader's fingers had made when he had cruelly gripped her leg.

Murakumo's hand slid away and he leaned down, placing a light kiss where his fingers had been before letting his body slide upwards against hers as he settled himself on top of her.

He brought his hands up and smoothed the short dark tendrils away from her cheeks and murmured, "You should have let me kill them, Midori, for what they did."

They were words of violence and yet, they expressed something beyond that and Midori finally knew that she had been right to doubt the veracity of his earlier words when he had expressed that he had only saved her so she could continue to nurse his mitama.

"What good would come from their slaughter?" she asked, her hand, for the first time coming up to touch his face.

"There need not be a reason to slaughter humans such as those," he replied.

"You're wrong," she murmured, but he didn't want to listen.

Instead he leaned down and kissed her, once again fueling the desire that burned so brightly between them. And then, when he was able to restrain himself no longer, he slowly pushed into her until their bodies were completely joined, thrusting deeply, her body wrapped snugly around him.

Midori's soft moans of pleasure mingled with his own and he began to quicken his strokes, the pleasure spiraling through his body with incredible intensity. As he hovered on the edge of release, he felt Midori's body tighten around him and she cried out, stiffening in his arms. With one last deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt within her sheath, his own hoarse groan mingling with hers as he spilled himself inside her.


	23. 22: Elusive Slumber

Chapter 22. Elusive Slumber

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY – TWO

The sun was going down, Ryoko noted idly, the sky going from a burst of orange and crimson to the deepening purple of twilight. The very edges of the horizon beyond the purple were showing the coming tide of night, and with it, the wash of crystalline stars that floated upon the swirling currents of the darkness were like grains of sand twinkling beneath the surface of rolling water.

How could it seem so beautiful, so idyllic, she mused sadly, when it was really nothing more than a mockery in light of everything they had been forced to witness? The blood that had been spilled stained Ryoko's thoughts a brighter crimson than the sky, and she could not forget even in the face of such natural beauty, the sacrificed lives and the new evil that had surfaced that threatened them all.

Ryoko turned her dark head away from the window as if to reject her thoughts, her eyes swinging over to the opposite side of the desk where her husband was, and concern for him clouded her eyes. With the top buttons of his shirt open, and his tie askew, he sat hunched over a pile of paper work, a heavy frown furrowing his brow, seemingly immersed in the dossier in front of him. He looked close to the breaking point, she observed worriedly; noticing the tired lines in his face, and she wished that there were something she could do to relieve the grief he was feeling.

He'd been sitting there like that for quite some time now, staring down at the same page. And Ryoko knew that he wasn't really seeing the paper in front him, but she had yet to say anything to him about it. She should probably take him home, back to Mrs. Fujimiya's, and yet she was afraid to suggest it, knowing that Mrs. Fujimiya still had to be told of what had happened to Kaede, and Ryoko didn't want Daitetsu to have to be the one to tell her.

"Would you stop that?" Matsu exclaimed, and the irritation and exasperation in her voice caught Ryoko's attention.

"What?" Sugishita replied in innocent tones, "I was just looking at it."

"For the last time, Sugishita," Matsu remarked impatiently, pulling the brightly illuminated, fluorescent phosphoric solution from his fingers, "it's not a toy!"

She glared at him and carefully placed the flask on the table in front of her. Feeling her patience tried beyond endurance, and hoping to hear news that would put an end to Sugishita's interference, she turned her head, casting a desperate look over her shoulder at Yaegashi who was sitting at the table in the middle of the room in front of his computer.

"Yaegashi!" she called plaintively, "are those numbers finished yet?"

Her hopes were doomed to disappointment by his answer, however.

"Not yet," he replied, pushing his glasses up his nose and shooting a sympathetic look in her direction, "just a little while longer though."

A little while longer? Matsu thought acidly, shooting a dark look at the handsome young man standing at her side. A few minutes more and she was liable to commit murder, she grumbled blackly to herself her jaw tightening as she watched Sugishita pick up her mortar and pestle and begin to play with them, knowing that his eyes were still glued to the brightly lit flask just inches away.

Reaching over, she jerked the marble instruments out of Sugi's hands and resisting the urge to chuck them at his sandy blonde head, thunked them down on the table instead, muttering beneath her breath.

"Please try to hurry, Yaegashi," she urged looking over her shoulder one more time.

"I'm doing my best," came his diplomatic reply.

With a sigh, Matsu returned her attention towards the table in time to see Sugishita once again reaching for the phosphoric solution.

"I said no, Sugishita!" she reiterated harshly, a forbidding expression sliding across her features.

Sugishita glanced up and away from the prize he had set his eyes on and saw her frown. His fascination briefly palled in light of her irritation and he gave her a hurt look.

In his most sulky manner he mumbled, "I don't see what the big deal was, I was –"

"I know," Matsu cut in repressively, "you were 'just looking at it'! But since when do you use your fingers to see?" she demanded, grabbing his hand and looking at the yellow staining his fingertips. "You've been 'just looking at it' for the last forty five minutes, and not only have you gotten it on your fingers – and it doesn't come off, by the way - but you've managed to spill it on the table as well." She pointed to the bright yellow drops on the lab table with an accusing finger. "Now, because of you, it needs to be re-measured!!" she complained.

Sugishita looked from her beleaguered expression, to his fingers, then to the drops on the table and he looked confounded.

"It's just the tips of my fingers, so what's the big deal? And why would you need to re-measure it when it's just a few drops that you're missing? You still have plenty left in the flask," he remarked reasonably.

He was about to pick it up again when there was a sharp _SMACK!_ and he whipped his hand back, feeling chastised more than truly hurt. But that didn't stop him from crinkling his nose as he opened his mouth in a silent 'ouch' while he gingerly rubbed the back of his hand where Matsu had slapped him.

"I swear, Sugishita, you are worse than my son, Jun!" she complained, her nostrils flaring in irritation. "When I tell you to leave something alone, I mean it!" She reached over, picked the flask up, and with one last remonstrative glance at the now subdued Sugishita, placed it on the other side of her and out of his reach. "This solution is highly unstable and it takes a long time to titrate. I don't want to have to redo the whole thing because of your curiosity over the way it glows! – Oh, and don't blame me when the tips of your fingers start to turn black! It's your own fault!"

A look of alarm slid over Sugi's face and he looked down at his yellow-stained fingertips, trying to rub the color off. "Black? They're going to turn black? Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I told you not to touch it," Matsu remarked in an I-told-you-so fashion, "but you just wouldn't listen. Now you'll be forced to live with black fingers for the next couple of days – And maybe the next time when I tell you something, you'll listen a little better," she informed him, sounding very much like his mother.

"But –" Sugi began, still looking down at his fingers when Ryoko interrupted him.

"Sugishita!" she called to him, and Sugi's eyes shifted to where she sat in the metal framed, plastic - seated lobby chair. Next to her was Kome, who occupied the high-backed chair behind the desk where she was still holding Noa. "Leave poor Matsu alone and let her finish what she's doing!" Ryoko ordered in a no nonsense fashion.

As she spoke, Ryoko arched her back, trying to work out some of the kinks and the stiffness that had settled in it over the past few hours from sitting in the uncomfortably hard chair. Gosh but her rear end was numb, she thought, making a wry face as Sugishita strolled over to her. Well, look at the bright side, she told herself; at least her butt was too numb to feel the pain that Sugishita's presence usually engendered in that general region of her body whenever he was near.

Knowing that she had just been rescued, Matsu's brown eyes turned in Ryoko's direction and she gave the blue-eyed brunette a grateful look. Ryoko acknowledged it with a small smile while inwardly groaning. Despite her numb posterior, she couldn't decide which was worse, the uncomfortable chair or Sugishita's company. And as Sugi slid her one of his practiced grins, Ryoko gritted her teeth and settled on the notion that he was far worse than any chair could ever be - even one with nails in it.

"You look beat, Ryoko," Sugi told her cheerfully as he came to a stop beside her chair and propped his hip on the corner of the desk, his blue eyes sweeping over her tired face and stiff back.

"Always the charmer, eh Sugi?" Ryoko commented dryly and then lapsed into silence.

"Why don't you take your old man home," he suggested after looking over his shoulder at Kunikida who still sat hunched over the same piece of paper, oblivious to everything around him, including the white sheaf on the desk. "He looks worse than you do."

At his words, Ryoko's eyes slid once more to her husband and she bit her lip, but didn't say anything.

"Mrs. Fujimiya still doesn't know, does she?" Kome murmured perspicaciously after taking one look at Ryoko's distressed face. "But why should you have to be the one to tell her?"

Ryoko's startled eyes flew to Kome's face, "What do you mean?"

Kome shifted the sleeping baby slightly before answering, propping him more securing against her shoulder, the soft down of his hair brushing against her cheek. "Well," she began slowly, "I'm wondering if maybe the news should come from Momiji."

"But, Kome – " Ryoko began.

"Think about it, Ryoko," Kome reasoned, breaking into Ryoko's protestations, "Momiji is her daughter. It would be hard on Momiji to have to tell her, but I think it would be a lot easier on Mrs. Fujimiya – hearing it from Momiji rather than you or Mr. Kunikida."

Ryoko didn't say anything for a moment, but her eyes returned to Daitetsu and she knew that it would ease her mind and remove a heavy burden from her husband's shoulders if he didn't have to be the one to tell Kaede's mother. But still she hesitated, not wanting to lay such a terrible task at Momiji's door either.

"Why don't we call Momiji and ask her what she wants to do since this involves her as well," Kome suggested, perceiving Ryoko's struggle over the issue.

Ryoko nodded her head in agreement, but before they could make the call, the light on the phone panel lit up as an incoming call came through, and the phone began to chirp.

"I'll get it," Yaegashi volunteered, reaching over and picking up the phone sitting next to his computer. "TAC, Izumo facility," he said, and then, 'she's right here – Matsu, " he called and held the phone out to her, "it's your husband."

Matsu turned and looked over her shoulder, a sleek eyebrow raised in inquiry. Yaegashi just shrugged his shoulders so she left her table to come and take the phone from his outstretched hand.

After a few minutes of disjointed conversation she pushed the disconnect button, her pupils dilated in shock, and she just stood there, the phone still clutched between her nerveless fingers.

Ryoko took one look at her and rocketed out of her chair to hurry over to her. "What is it, Matsu? What's wrong?" she asked urgently, reaching out and touching her friend's arm.

"It's Jun," Matsu said numbly, her eyes staring through Ryoko, not really seeing her. "There was a fight at school," she explained in a curiously detached way, "Two boys - one of then was Jun's friend - they were fighting and Jun tried to stop them. The other boy pulled a knife and Jun got in the way –" Matsu stopped, her eyes finally coming into focus as she heard Ryoko's dismayed gasp and she looked at Ryoko's concerned face. "They've taken him to the hospital. My husband says that the blade penetrated between his ribs and punctured his lung –"

"Dear god," Ryoko breathed.

"- He's stable and they have taken him to surgery…" her voice trailed off.

"You should go," Ryoko urged her gaze flickering briefly to Sugishita as he came to stand beside them, his expression sober for once.

"Come on," he told Matsu, "I'll drive you to Tokyo."

Matsu nodded her head, removed her lab coat and grabbed up her pocket book and winter coat. As she was walking out the door she abruptly turned and blurted out, 'But what about Noa! I was supposed to take him with me – "

"Don't worry about the baby," Kome reassured her, "Yaegashi and I can take him for the night."

At his wife's words, Yaegashi's head shot around and his eyes reflected his misgivings over Kome's offer.

"Are you certain?" Matsu said, one foot already out the door, a relieved look on her face when Kome nodded her head reassuringly. "All right then, I'll probably be gone less than twenty-four hours. – Just long enough to make sure that he's okay."

"Don't be silly," Kunikida replied gruffly, speaking up for the first time, as he unfolded his big frame from the chair and approached the scientist, his eyes intense as he said, "he's your son, Matsu. He's more important than any lab experiment and he should come first. Anything you're doing here can wait."

"But the radioisotopes," Matsu objected.

"They'll still be here when you get back and I'll have Yaegashi do some more computer analysis on what you've already uncovered while you're gone. We can manage until you get back," Kunikida assured her.

Matsu finally nodded and she and Sugishita swept from the room. After they were gone, Yaegashi finally spoke up, his words directed to his wife.

"Kome," he began reluctantly, "I don't know if our taking the baby is such a good idea…"

"Why not?" she demanded, her deep blue eyes glinting challengingly at Yaegashi. "'We're the only logical choice," she informed him, "the Fujimiya household is already over crowded. - And you don't really expect me to call Sakura to come here and have her do it, after today's earlier debacle, do you?"

"No," Yaegashi replied reluctantly after a long moment, "I suppose not. But what about Momiji?"

"Poor kid," Kome murmured, "she's been through enough for one day, Yaegashi. Don't you think that she deserves a little bit of a break before permanently taking charge of him?"

Yaegashi sat, his mouth opening and closing, wishing he could come up with some pretext that would keep them from taking the baby home, knowing that it was useless. He eyed his wife's determined countenance and felt his heart sink. She was determined to do this, no matter what excuse he supplied to the contrary, and he wasn't about to expose the real reason, knowing how sensitive Kome was on that subject.

"Speaking of Momiji," Kome said her eyes moving from her husband to Ryoko as she turned the course of the conversation to another topic to hinder any further comments from Yaegashi, "weren't we going to call her about her mother?"

Ryoko nodded her head and re-crossed the room to the desk.

"Do you want me to do it?" Kome asked softly when Ryoko stood staring at the phone without picking it up.

Ryoko shook her head. "No," she said in resignation, finally picking it up. "I'll do it."

Momiji frowned blearily down at the bottom of her empty cup, her green eyes wide as she tried to focus them. That had been her third cup of hot sake, she thought in frustration, and apart from feeling slightly woozy headed, it hadn't done a darn thing to help relax her enough to try and get some sleep.

The still too vivid memory of Kusanagi's lips was the culprit, she thought in irritation. Putting a tentative finger up and rubbing her lower lip, she remembered the feel of Kusanagi's lips against hers and was unable to shake the restive sensation that burned in the middle of her chest. Letting her hand fall to her side, Momiji scowled impatiently at herself.

Why couldn't she just push it from her mind? She asked herself. She would have thought that three good doses of sake would have at least helped to take the edge off of the memory of it, but it hadn't. She was still as restless as before if not more so.

"Maybe one m-m-more cup will do the tr-r-ick," she mumbled to herself and climbed unsteadily to her feet.

Tiredly weaving her way over to the stove, Momiji picked up the kettle and held it over her cup, waiting patiently for it to be filled. But nothing came out. Staring blankly at the kettle, it took a moment or two for her addled brain to realize that it was empty, and only then after she had taken the lid off and stuck an emerald orb over the top of it to stare down at its shiny bottom.

"Hmm," she mused aloud, "I th-thought I put more in there th-than that. Oh well," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

She tipped the kettle back into its upright position and poured a little more sake into it. Then turning the stove on, she reached up and was putting the bottle of sake away when the phone rang. With a yawn, Momiji turned and shuffled her way across the kitchen and entered the living room, absently wondering why the bottom of her feet felt so funny. Before she had a chance to further analyze the strange sensation, her sleepy eyes were yanked wide open as she somehow stubbed the toe of her slipper against the floor and went careening to the ground, her arms flailing in the sleeves of her robe and her hair flying out behind her in a billowing cloud.

She hit the floor with a hard _THUD!_ and then an _Oof!_ as the wind was knocked out of her. Scrambling to her knees, she tried to stand, but found that gathering herself up off the floor was proving more difficult that getting down there had been. Her arms and legs were tangled in the bulky folds of her nightgown and robe and every time she tried to rise, she was pulled up short when she stepped on either one or the other. Making a noise of frustration, Momiji finally circumvented the problem by throwing her arm over the back of the sofa and hauling herself to her feet that way. Flustered by the her lack of coordination and subsequent struggle, Momiji hurriedly stretched for the phone before her answering machine picked it up and promptly dropped it to the ground. Dipping down once more, Momiji swept the phone up and finally managed to answer it in a breathless, harassed voice.

"Momiji, is that you?" Ryoko's voice crackled in her ear.

"Unh-huh," she replied with a grimace, trying to catch her breath, "I f-f-fell b'fore I goto the ph-phone," she mumbled.

"What was that loud noise?" Ryoko wanted to know.

"Well, after I f-f-fell, I d-dropped the ph-phone," Momiji explained vaguely, not really wanting to go into it.

"Oh, I see," Ryoko replied not really seeing at all. There was a slight pause, and then she added, "Momiji, have you been? – are you all right? You sound… a little funny."

"Mmm," Momiji stalled, giving her brain a chance to catch up with Ryoko's words, "I'm f-f-fine, just a li'l ti-ired is all."

Again there was a slight pause as if Ryoko was trying to decide what to do and then, "I needed to talk to you about your mother, but perhaps, now is not a good time."

"W-wait! - What about my mother?" Momiji asked abruptly, her thoughts suddenly coming into sharp focus.

"Well, we haven't told her about – Kaede – and I wasn't sure what to do. Do you want me to -?" Ryoko began formulating the question, but Momiji's voice broke in.

"I'll do it," Momiji responded somewhat woodenly.

"Are you sure?" Ryoko asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling horrible for asking.

"I'm sure," Momiji affirmed, passing her hand over her face, trying to erase some of the fuzziness she was feeling. "But not 'til t'morrow," Momiji temporized, the haze of alcohol and fatigue once again dulling her senses. "I'll do it t'morrow, 'kay, Ry-y-yoko?"

"Okay," Ryoko agreed, and then before Momiji could hang up, she lowered her voice to a whisper so that no one could hear her and asked, "Momiji…have you been - drinking?"

'Jus' a li'l bit," Momiji whispered back even though she was in the room alone, "I yam re-e-ally ti-ired but I yam having tr-rouble sleeping, s-s-so, I th-thought a li'l s-sake might help. But," Momiji was shaking her head regretfully as if Ryoko was standing there looking at her, "all it did was make the bottom of my feet go numb."

"The bottom of your feet are numb?" Ryoko repeated and there was a ghost of a laugh in her voice.

""Yep," Momiji nodded her head emphatically, "I think th-that's the r-r-reason I f-fell when I came to get the ph-phone."

"I see," Ryoko replied again in a carefully neutral sort of way, "well, Momiji, I don't think you should have any more sake if it affects the bottom of your feet. Otherwise you might not make it up the stairs to bed."

"Mmm," Momiji stalled again for her brain's sake and then finally added, "you're prob'ly right. N-n-no more s-s-sake for me tonight then. But p-please don't s-say anything to Mom about Kaede, Ryoko," Momiji entreated, her voice despite the obvious slur, very serious, "I w-want to be the one to tell her. I think it would be better that way."

"All right, I promise I wont say anything to you mother," Ryoko vowed and then hung up shortly afterwards.

Momiji put the phone down, and then jumped out of her skin when a shrill whistle sounded from the kitchen.

"Crap!" she muttered and bolted into the kitchen, tripping twice on her way.

She had forgotten all about the sake on the stove and it had started to boil. Grabbing a tea towel, she turned the stove off and snatched the copper kettle from the hot burner to keep the liquid contents from spewing out of the spout. As she lifted it, she felt the scalding wetness of the steam bite into her wrist, and she juggled the kettle between her hands until she managed to turn the spout outwards and away from her.

"Momiji?" came a sudden, loud voice from behind her. "I thought you were in bed. What the heck are you – _Yiaahhhh_!" Kusanagi ended in a yelp of pain as Momiji, startled by the close sound of his voice, spun around on her heel, tipping the kettle in the process so that hot sake was slung from the spout and splattered across his bare chest.

Kusanagi jumped back, his hand over his chest and a string of curses filled the air between them. Momiji's eyes rounded in dismay and her mouth flew open as she watched big angry welts begin to rise on the smooth skin of his chest.

"Oh, m'gosh," she breathed contritely, her hand going to her mouth, "I'm s-so sorry, Sk… Sk… - K'sanagi."

Kusanagi, who had been clenching his jaw and looking down at the damage he had received, looked sharply up at the sound of Momiji's slurred speech, his eyes sweeping critically over the unfocused green of her eyes, and the flurry of color that stained her cheeks.

"Have you been _drinkin_g?" he asked her accusingly.

Momiji's mouth shut with a snap at the acrid sound of his tone. "No, I have not!" she bristled indignantly, a glint in her emerald green eyes, and her back ramrod straight. But then, too tired to maintain the pose for longer than a second or two, she immediately slumped over and the glint clouded to a dull shimmer as she nibbled on her bottom lip, "well, not a lot, anyway. J-just some atsukan"

Kusanagi blinked disbelievingly at her several times and then frowned. "How much is 'not a lot'?" he wanted to know, trying to ignore how adorable she looked standing there, bundled up to her ears in her fluffy robe, staring owlishly up at him.

"Jus' 'th-three cups," Momiji informed him, "but they were s-small."

She took a step toward him, and held her fingers up in a pinching motion as if to demonstrate just how 'small' small was, the kettle of hot sake still grasped in her other hand tipping at a precarious angle as she moved. Kusanagi's eyes dipped in alarm from her face to her hand, which was level with his waist, knowing that she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing, and knowing, too, that if she spilled anymore it was going to burn a much more sensitive area than before.

"Whoa, there, Princess," he said, his gloved hand shooting out, grasping her by the wrist and raising it upwards until he could safely remove the kettle from her fingers without having boiling sake poured down his groin.

Giving her a speaking glance, he brushed past her, leaving the smell of sandalwood in his wake as he took the kettle and carried it to the sink, pouring out the contents and then rinsing it clean. As he passed her, Momiji breathed in deeply, fully appreciating the scent that clung to him and her head swiveled around, following his motions with keen interest.

Feeling slightly useless to be standing there with nothing to do. Momiji's fingers fluttered restlessly to the belt of her robe while she watched him, and she began tugging at the knot she had made, loosening it so that the ends trailed along the floor. She was unaware of that fact however, too caught up in admiring the object of her affections

Gosh, but he looked so nice, she thought breezily, a dreamy smile curving her lips as she let her eyes move over the back of his dark, green - black hair that was still slightly wet from his shower and range across his broad shoulders. He was superbly built, she mentally drooled; her eyes following the broad tapering line of his back down to his waist where they came to rest on the only piece of clothing he was sporting at the moment.

Ooh! He was wearing his black shorts, Momiji noted with interest, and then hard on that thought came another more interesting realization. Kusanagi's rear end looked rather nice; very pleasing as a matter of fact, the tight black fabric of his shorts defining the lean shape of his backside. And that thought was followed by an even more intriguing one, as Momiji suddenly wondered what he would look like without them.

Dear god, just what was she thinking!? a voice somewhere in the back of her addled brain shouted at her. Feeling her ears begin to burn as the color rose from her neck all the way to her forehead, Momiji managed to rip her eyes from Kusanagi's derriere and just in time too, as he chose that particular moment to turn around and give her a discerning glance.

Momiji kept her eyes wide and tried to assume an innocent expression, but knew that she had failed, for he took one look at her face, his eyes narrowing, and demanded, "Okay, Momiji, what did you do?"

"Do?" she echoed vacuously, "I dunno what you mean. I din't do anything."

"Then why are you blushing?" he demanded his eyes narrowing even further as the color in her face grew brighter and brighter.

Unable to stop them, Momiji's wayward eyes flicked downward over Kusanagi's body, drawn like a magnet by the black color of his shorts, but they were snagged short by the blotches of fiery red that stood out brightly even on his bronzed skin instead, and she stepped towards him, a look of concern etched across her face.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry," she apologized again, "I should prob'y get s-something to put on that."

"It's all right, Momi – _ungh!_" Kusanagi's voice was clipped off as Momiji's toes got tangled in the trailing ends of her belt and she torpedoed towards him out of control.

Her forehead speared him in the middle of the chest, and her nose smacked against the solid wall of muscle so hard that it brought tears to her eyes.

Kusanagi quickly put his arms around her and pulled her close to keep her from bouncing to the floor and grimaced as the fabric from her robe rubbed against the burns on his chest. With strained patience, he waited for her to find her feet and was getting ready to let go of her when he felt her arms come up and circle around to his back.

As Momiji pressed closer to him, he stiffened involuntarily, the discomfort in his chest increasing. Biting back a curse, he tensed and gritted his teeth against the pain needling across his skin as the softness of her robe continued to grate against his chest. But he forgot all about that when he felt Momiji's fingers begin to tentatively explore the bare flesh of his back, sending an electrical jolt through his body as they began to feather softly along his spine.

Now Kusanagi tensed and gritted his teeth for an entirely different reason as he felt the lower part of his body begin to respond to her touch, immediately and inconveniently stiffening in the cramped quarters of his black shorts. Apparently his long cold shower had been neither long enough nor cold enough to even dull the effect that she had on him.

In fact, it seemed as if his senses were even more heightened than usual, and he was now almost fully erect, just from the feel of her hands lightly running up and down his back. Becoming alarmed, he reached around and untangled her arms from behind him, bringing them forward and then gently nudging her away, until she was no longer touching him. Momiji looked slightly hurt at his rebuff, but there was little he could do, for he was not in the mood for slow torture, which is what her close proximity to him was akin to at this point.

Once she was at a safe distance, relief and frustration swamped him at the same time and Kusanagi struggled to keep his conflicting emotions from showing, knowing that whey would only further confuse Momiji's already fuzzy logic. But looking into her hazy green eyes, he found he couldn't dismiss her wounded look, and a disturbingly heavy sensation began to press against his chest the longer he was aware of it.

Suddenly he needed to touch her, to try and make her sadness disappear and to alleviate the strange feeling in the middle of his chest. So he reached out and softly traced her cheek with his thumb, the corners of his mouth tipping up into a slightly strained smile as he stared down into her sleepy eyes.

"You really are a klutz," he teased lightly, and chuckled when he heard her indignant snort.

"I yam not," she denied, and then made allowances for her momentary lapse of coordination by adding, "it's jus', right now, the bot-tom of my feet are a bit numb."

Feeling embarrassed and knowing somewhere deep inside, far beyond her sleep deprived state, that she sounded like an idiot, Momiji's eyes shifted away from his amused expression and she began to self-consciously pick at the fluff of her robe, a small furrow forming above her nose as her lip jutted out in a childish pout.

All four of Kusanagi's green brows soared high over his cat-like eyes at Momiji's mumbled confession and her childish expression and he watched her lip inch out even further when he responded to her by murmuring sardonically, "Are you sure that it's just your feet? Because it sounds like your tongue is a little numb too, Princess." And then after a slight pause, he added, "Just how much did you drink, Momiji?"

The pout evaporated into a look of deep thought, and Momiji's sleepy eyes swung back to Kusanagi's face.

"I thought …din't I tell you already?" Momiji asked him, looking slightly confused now, and Kusanagi rolled his eyes.

"I think it's time to say goodnight, Princess," he told her taking a step towards her.

"Oh no, but I can't – you s-s-see, I'm not ti-ired yet," she protested, earnestly waving her hand in front of her to keep him at a distance, "an'if I try to go upstairs now, I'm not g-'goin' t'be able to s-s-sleep -"

"I find that highly unlikely, Momiji. You look ready to drop," he observed, noting her dropping shoulders and cloudy green eyes.

He didn't doubt that Momiji had only had three cups of sake, but their effects had been greatly magnified by her fatigue. In fact, he doubted very seriously that, if had she been fully rested, she would be quite as…relaxed in mind and body as she was now even after the same three cups that she had drunk tonight.

But as things currently stood, she would be lucky to make it out of the kitchen, much less up the stairs under her own power. Especially if her feet were…numb, he thought wryly. And no matter what she said, she truly did look as if she could go to sleep standing on her feet; her protestations striking him as those of an overly tired child who has been told it's bedtime and who was fighting to stay awake with all her might just to prove otherwise.

Unsurprisingly, Momiji's behavior continued in the same vein, and having been told something she didn't wish to hear, she ignored Kusanagi's statement and instead told him, "- And b'sides th-that -" she pointed a vague finger in his direction, "- I n-n-need to fix you up."

Kusanagi's face registered comical dismay at the idea of allowing her anywhere near him in her uncoordinated inebriated state, and he hastened to reassure her, "No, no, that's completely unnecessary, Momiji, I think I cant handle things on my own – "

"No, Sk… - Sk… - K'sanagi," she mumbled, shaking her head emphatically, swaying on her feet because the movement made her dizzy.

She abruptly quit speaking and would have keeled over right then and there had Kusanagi not reached out a steadying hand to keep her upright. With amused exasperation, he waited until she regained her balance and after her mumbled, 'thank you' let her go, waiting with exaggerated patience for her to finish what she was saying.

After a few moments of restless fidgeting, Momiji's green eyes swung back to his face, and her chestnut brows furrowed in concentration as she struggled to pull her thoughts together and recall what it was she had been saying. Then a look of delighted triumph flitted across her face and she raised a finger and used it to punctuate her thought as she finished it.

"It is nesra- nesra- nesracessary," she stumbled over the word, unable to get her tongue around it, but forged on anyway, "it w-w-was my fault, so it's the least I can do," she explained and then added, "- to help fix you, that is."

Kusanagi waited to make sure that she was finished speaking, and he stared quietly at her in secret amusement while she stood there in dazed oblivion, happy with herself that she had thoroughly explained things in a completely satisfactory manner. Kusanagi could feel the smile he had been trying to hide begin to curve his lips and he stifled the urge to chuckle at the expression on her face, knowing that his amusement would be misinterpreted and would only serve to rile her. - And considering the unpredictability of her current mood, riling her could be a very dangerous thing, indeed.

The silence stretched on between them and Momiji began to wonder why Kusanagi didn't say anything. Slowly her feelings of warm satisfaction began to disintegrate into uncertainty. And as she peered up at Kusanagi, his look of inquiry told her that he was waiting for her to continue, but Momiji couldn't think of anything to add, so she cleared her throat and folded her hands in front of her and tried not to look too self-conscious.

"Are you finished, now, Princess?" he asked quizzically, staring at her with an unfathomable smile.

"Um, yes, I th-think so," she replied slowly, trying to figure out what the smile meant.

"Good," he replied the smile widening before she had had a good chance to analyze it, and then he swooped forward, and ignoring Momiji's surprised squeak, lifted her off her feet, one hand going beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders.

After a moment of delay, which was necessary for Momiji's brain to cogitate what was going on, she began to push and squirm, her struggles causing razor sharp pains to shoot through the burns on his chest and Kusanagi drew in a sharp breath and clenched his jaw.

"Will you stop that," he demanded in strained accents, tightening his hold on her as he quickly carried her from the room and up the stairs.

"Put me down, Suk!… -Suk!…" she stammered.

"Suk-suk?" Kusanagi asked. His breath tickled against her cheek and Momiji felt goose bumps break out across her neck and arms as he continued speaking. "Who the heck are you talking to, Princess?" he teased.

"You kn-know very well, I'm speaking to you, Suk! – Suk! -" Momiji stopped and growled in frustration before managing to spit out, "Kus –a – na – gi!"

"Wow, I'm impressed," Kusanagi told her, turning his head and grinning broadly down into her stormy eyes, "you actually remembered my name – and without any help from me, too. That's quite and accomplishment, Princess!"

"Suk!… Kusanagi!" Momiji sputtered angrily.

"Wow! The whole word that time," he chuckled, climbing to the top of the stairs now and turning towards her room. "You just keep getting better and better. I bet you'll be able to say a whole sentence with my name in it in another minute or two!"

By now they were in her darkened room, the twilight having long faded so that what light there was spilled into the room from the hallway behind them.

"W-w-would you _puhlize_ put me d-d-down!?" she gritted out and then was surprised when he obliged.

"As you wish," he murmured, gently setting her to her feet in front of her bed and watching her gaze flit around the darkened room before settling back on him, a protest forming on her lips. "I know you want to help me, Momiji, but I can take care of myself," he assured her smoothly. "Now lay down and go to sleep," he ordered firmly, his words softened when he put his hands up and cupped her cheeks.

Even in the semi-darkness, he could see the shimmer of her eyes and he felt their pull on him as she stared up at him. Unable to stop himself, Kusanagi leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips against hers, wanting to feel her warmth for just a moment before he left her. He kept his touch light, resisting the urge to pull her closer. He was preparing to end the kiss when she sighed and leaned into him.

Kusanagi felt a wrenching sensation in the pit of his stomach at her unconscious gesture of wanting more and without realizing it until it was too late, he had moved his hands away from her face, allowing his arms to snake around her and pull her tightly against him. Barely noticing the small stabs of pain from the burns on his chest, he increased the pressure of his kiss, his mouth opening over hers and his tongue slipping inside her mouth as his desire flared out of control. He was aware of nothing but the feel and the taste of her until she reached her hand out and touched him and then he jumped back in pain, abruptly releasing her.

"Sk…Sk… Kusanagi," she stuttered breathlessly, realizing that she had hurt him, "I'm sorry."

She took a step towards him and watched him retreat a step, his hand still clutching the burns on his chest.

"I think it would be best if we said goodnight," Kusanagi told her, his voice roughened by strong emotion and the pain roiling through him.

He reluctantly fell back, not wanting to leave but knowing that if he didn't he wasn't strong enough to control his reactions to her. If she had been just a little more sober, he thought, and then clamped down on that forbidden notion, knowing that if she had been just a little more sober this probably never would have happened.

Momiji watched as he slowly turned away from her, his hand still clutched tightly to his chest and felt guilt and remorse lodge in a lump in the middle of her throat. Once again she had managed to hurt him with her thoughtless actions.

Why did she have to be so clumsy? She silently lamented, wishing that for once she could do something right.

Kusanagi continued moving away from her until he was framed within the doorway, where he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her one more time.

"Good night, Momiji," he murmured quietly.

Momiji stood where he left her until she heard him enter his room, and one thought brightly crystallized like the sun burning through the clouds: she had to help him. No matter what he said, she couldn't _not _help him, knowing that the pain he was feeling was entirely her fault.

Filled with purpose, her feet began churning forward, but before she had taken two steps, she once again tripped on the trailing end of her belt. This time she managed to remain upright, staggering half way across the room before she regained her balance. Jerking the belt free, she glared at it and tossed it back on her bed before slowly plodding from her room and down the hall.

"This w-w-would be a heckuva lot easier," she muttered crabbily to herself, "if I could f-f-feel the bottom of my feet."

Finally making it to the bathroom, Momiji went inside and flipped on the light, immediately reaching for her first aid kit. Putting it on the counter, she removed the tube of burn ointment that Kusanagi had purchased for her.

"I guess this won't go to waste after all," she murmured before she replaced the kit on the shelf.

Clutching the tube in her hand, she flipped the light out and veered towards Kusanagi's room, her mouth pulled into a straight line of determination. She _would_ help him, she thought tenaciously, even if it killed him.


	24. 23: Torture Begins With A Capital M

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Yaegashi slowly shadowed Kome into the apartment building, and followed her onto the elevator. He held his silence, but every time he glanced at his wife, his uneasiness grew to a new level. He pushed the button for their floor and felt his stomach drop to his shoes as the elevator began it's upward ascent, leaving his stomach behind on the ground level as he shot his wife another sideways glance and saw the enraptured expression on her face. Inside the panic began to build and he quickly looked away from her, knowing that his expression clearly reflected the discomfort he was feeling.

Why he bothered trying to hide it, though, he didn't know, he thought, grumbling to himself. She was so wrapped up in the baby that he could be dancing the Flamenco naked in front of her with a rose clenched between his teeth and she would have never noticed. He felt a dull throb begin to pulsate against his temples when he thought about the next twelve hours and his gaze slid apprehensively back to Kome, knowing that, for her, this was a taste of what she had been longing for.

He could see it written across her face as she stood quietly next to him, her red head bent and her deep blue eyes focused on the crown of the sleeping infant nestled against her, a soft smile tipping the corners of her lips. It was a side of her that she rarely exhibited, a side that he enjoyed seeing and one that would become more frequent if things were different – but all it meant for now, was that heartache lay ahead.

_Damn!_ he grumbled to himself, feeling his jaw clench involuntarily.

He knew that this had been a bad idea. His resentful gaze speared the sleeping bundle before he once again looked away and made himself relax. His stomach finally caught up with them and settled somewhere in the region of his toes as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. It wasn't the baby's fault, he reminded himself as they left the elevator and continued down the hall to the small, furnished apartment they were renting while staying in Izumo.

He slid his key into the door and Kome spoke to him for the first time.

"Yoshiki," she murmured quietly, "I think I'll let you take Kishiru out for his nightly walk tonight."

Yaegashi's gaze swiveled back to her as he automatically turned the knob and began opening the apartment door.

"But, Kome," he protested, dismayed, "you know how he is – " Yaegashi broke off as he thought about the lumbering saliva factory awaiting them on the other side of the door.

Who would have guessed that the tiny puppy that Kome had rescued from those mutant Aragami dogs so long ago could have grown into such a massive behemoth? Yaegashi was fond of him, but he liked to be fond of him at a distance, since Kishiru, despite his big body, still thought he was a lap dog. And taking him out for a walk was like to being drug around while tied to the bumper of a small car. Or at least it was for Yaegashi, since Kishiru would only obey commands from Kome.

"Why don't you let me watch the baby for a while and you walk Kishiru," Yaegashi suggested desperately, already knowing what the answer would be.

"I don't feel like it tonight," Kome made the excuse as Yaegashi opened the door the rest of the way.

Any reply that Yaegashi felt like making was sabotaged when he heard the _THUMP! THUMP!_ of Kishiru's tail whacking the open door as the small mountain of white and beige fur launched himself at Yaegashi, causing him to stagger backwards, out into the hallway under the dog's weight.

Kishiru might only obey Kome, but he had a particular affection for the soft speech and gentle hands of his bespeckled master, and he felt obligated to show it each time he saw him.

"Down boy!" Yaegashi managed in a strained boy, trying to push the huge paws from his chest and pat Kishiru's head at the same time.

"Here," Kome said, thrusting Kishiru's leash into Yaegashi's hand before he could get back inside the apartment. "Try not to keep him out too long," she told him.

Yaegashi made a wry face and replied as he bent and snapped the leash onto Kishiru's collar, "Who are you talking to? Me or the dog?"

"You, or course," she laughed.

"I think you would be better off talking to the dog, since he's the one driving," Yaegashi grumbled his voice jerking to an end as Kishiru darted forward, towards the elevator, almost yanking Yaegashi's arm from its socket.

Yaegashi turned and looked back over his shoulder, grinning sheepishly at his wife. Kome returned his smile and he raised his hand in a farewell salute as the dog finally came to a stop, sitting on his haunches, his tail thumping enthusiastically against the ground as he waited for the doors to the elevator to open.

"Be back soon, hopefully," Yaegashi called.

Kome nodded and watched Yaegashi get dragged into the elevator, her smile widening affectionately when she heard his voice raised in squeaky protest as Kishiru moved restlessly around the elevator, entangling Yaegashi with the leash before the elevator doors closed on them, cutting off his words.

He would make such a great father.

The words bubbled up through her thoughts before she realized it and her smile faded. Pushing the unwanted thought away, Kome turned and entered the apartment, closing the door behind her.

As she moved further into the room, she glanced down at the sleeping face of Noa and let her hand trail down the silky softness of his dark hair. She kicked her shoes off and quietly carried the baby to the bedroom, switching the lights on as she went, her thoughts completely focused on the baby. Carefully laying him in the center of the bed, she surrounded him with pillows to protect him and then sat back to watch him sleep.

She wasn't aware of how long she had been sitting there until she heard Yaegashi come back into the apartment and she looked at her watch. He'd been gone for forty-five minutes, she realized with a start and wondered what he had been doing. As she pondered what could have kept him so long, she heard him start talking to Kishiru. She couldn't tell what he was saying, but his voice sounded exasperated and it piqued her curiosity even further.

A few minutes later, he came through the bedroom door and stopped short his eyes settling on Kome, not missing the fact that she was curled up next to Noa.

Kome's jaw came unhinged, her mouth falling open as he stood there, and she stared at his disheveled appearance. Slowly she got off the bed and approached him, her stunned blue eyes moving from the grass stains on the shredded knees of his slacks, to the ripped sleeve of his shirt, before climbing upwards to his face, where she noted the long streak of dirt down one cheek and the abrasion on his chin before finally reaching his dark hair which had little bits and pieces of dead leaves stuck in it.

"What happened to you?" she asked faintly with barely a trace of a laugh in her voice as she started to pick at the dead leaves.

"What does it look like?" Yaegashi asked her irritably, pushing her hand away and unbuttoning his shirt as he moved further into the room. "Kishiru decided that I made a good plow," he told her in acrid tones as he tossed his shirt in the wastebasket and began to remove his pants, noting with regret that they were beyond repair as well – and they had been one of his favorite pair too. "I must have churned up a good acre of dirt before your dog decided that he was tired of chasing the little brown bunny he had spotted, and finally gave up." He ignored Kome's chuckles as he gathered up a fresh changed of clothes and turned towards the bathroom clad only in his boxers now.

"Why didn't you just let go of his leash?" Kome asked, her voice liberally laced with amusement now.

Yaegashi reached the door adjoining the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped at her words, bristling in irritation with himself for not having enough sense to do the obvious.

Feeling extremely foolish, he ignored her question, turning instead to throw a frown over his shoulder at her, saying moodily, "That's the last time I walk him, Kome. He won't listen to me, and I refuse to eat any more grass because of his enthusiastic romps."

With as much dignity as he could muster standing there in his underwear, he exited the room. He had barely made into the bathroom when he heard Kome burst into gales of laughter and felt a small answering smile crease his face as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He knew he looked silly – and god knew he felt silly - and he really didn't mind walking the dog.

But what he did mind was sacrificing part of his wardrobe to do it; and Kome truly was much better at handling Kishiru than he was. Yaegashi quickly showered and dressed and then reentered the bedroom to find his wife in the same position as before, sitting vigilantly next to the sleeping baby on the bed, her eyes pinned to his small form.

Trying to ignore that niggling of unease he felt, he moved towards the bed, stepping around Kishiru who had stretched himself out at the end of the bed, an innocent look on his canine face.

Yaegashi stopped briefly and snorted at the expression, muttering to the dog, "You can't fool me with that look. I was with you, remember?"

The dog raised his head and gave a slight whine and Yaegashi bent down and rubbed his ears before moving on until he came to standstill beside his wife, inquiring, "Are you hungry? I can make us some dinner."

Kome heaved a deep sigh.

"Isn't he beautiful, Yoshiki?" she asked quietly, completely ignoring Yaegashi's question about food.

Stifling a sigh, Yaegashi obediently transferred his gaze to the sleeping baby and he gave him a considering look.

"He looks a lot like Kusanagi to me," Yaegashi said and was surprised at how ruffled Kome got at his observation.

"He does _NOT _look like that pesky Plant Boy!" she replied heatedly, finally turning her head to shoot a frown up at her husband before looking down once more at Noa. "Noa is a little angel and there is nothing angelic about Mamoru Kusanagi!" she insisted firmly, her tone daring him to argue with her.

"If you say so," Yaegashi replied noncommittally, privately thinking the same thoughts as before, "but how do you know that Noa is an angel when you've been with him for less than a day?"

Kome took her time answering that one, but finally said, "I just know. A woman can tell these things, you know." And then she started to add the words that Yaegashi had been dreading ever since they had left the TAC laboratory, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic vulnerability as she began, "I just wish – "

"Kome," he interrupted quietly trying to avoid what he knew was coming.

Sitting on the bed next to her, he took her hands in his, trying to get her to look at him, but she kept her gaze, staring at Noa. There was a stony expression on her face, but Yaegashi knew better than to believe what he saw. She couldn't hide the pain she was feeling from him. Damn, he cursed inwardly. He had known this was going to happen.

"Kome, please," he begged her, "give it time –"

Kome wrenched her hands away from him and flew up off the bed to pace to the window where she pulled back the curtains to look out into the darkness, over the shadowed branches of the barren trees below.

"It's already been over a year now," she told him in a low tone, "how much longer am I supposed to give it? Most women would have been pregnant by now," she muttered bitterly, "but then again, I've never been like most women, eh Yoshiki?" her laugh held a note of self-derision and she turned her blue eyes to stare broodingly at Yaegashi who had come to stand quietly behind her. "I'm not a woman - I'm 'the Hurricane!' - Reliable Kome, as tough as they come – tougher than most men," her lips twisted bitterly and Yaegashi clenched his hands at his sides, determined not to interrupt her until she had finished her tirade, "Hell, I might as well be a man, considering that I'm not even feminine enough to be able to bare a child!"

She looked away from him, her shoulders slumped, and she moved away from the window into the center of the room where she stared unseeingly at the bed where the tiny infant lay.

"Are you finished?" Yaegashi asked her furiously. Startled by the anger in his voice, she turned her head sharply , her blue gaze flying back to his face to see his mouth drawn into a tight line and his eyes glinting behind the thin metal rim of his glasses. "This isn't just about you Kome; this is about us," he seethed. "I'm sick of seeing you denigrate yourself because you can see nothing worthwhile in the woman you are. I didn't marry you because I wanted a manly wife! I married you because I fell in love with the girl that you are, not just your physical strength but also that side of you that you hide so well, the one that is shy, that cares for others and wants to protect others. Being able to bare a child doesn't make you more or less of a woman, Kome, and being vulnerable doesn't make you less of one either.

"So you haven't gotten pregnant within the last year. So what? " he told her moving towards her and putting his hands on her shoulders, his brown eyes staring into her deep blue ones, "It doesn't mean we have to stop trying. And if it comes down to our not being able to have children – it won't be the end of the world."

"But, Yoshiki –" she began.

"No!" he enunciated firmly, removing his hands from her shoulders and turning to stalk a few feet away before swiveling back around to look at her. "I knew that bringing this baby home was a bad idea, I knew that you should have let Momiji come and get him."

"I couldn't have done that," she defended in outrage and then repeated her reasoning from earlier, "She's been through so much already."

But Yaegashi just gave her a hard look from behind his glasses and replied, "That's not why you insisted on bringing him here. Momiji is a lot stronger than that, and you know it. She has to be because she's the Kushinada, and if you had called her and told her that she needed to come and take the baby, then you know she would have been more than willing to do so. The reason that you didn't call her is because you didn't _want_ to," he accused.

There was a moment of silence before Kome replied.

"Okay, I admit it," she flared at him and threw her arms out in a wild gesture, "are you happy now? I admit that I want to have a baby more than anything! I would even give up the Self-Defense Force and the TAC for it! Is that what you wanted to hear me say?"

Her voice had risen to a shriek and she was close to breaking down.

Yaegashi walked back over to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her face against the warmth of his neck, and didn't say anything for a long moment. Kome closed her eyes and wound her arms around Yaegashi's chest, pressing close to him, drinking in the acceptance that she always found within his arms.

"Bringing him home isn't going to make him yours," Yaegashi told her quietly, smoothing his hand down the flame red length of her hair. "All it does is serve to remind you of what you so desperately want. Just like I knew it would."

Kome didn't answer but just squeezed him tighter.

"Give it time," he whispered against her hair, "it will happen. You just have to be patient."

After a moment, Kome nodded and finally pulled away from him, and an unexpected chill ran up her spine as the temperature seemed to rapidly drop. Suddenly, Kishiru, normally about as threatening as a lamp shade, shot up from his dormant position, his hackles raised and his fangs bared in a menacing way that neither of them had ever seen before.

Both Kome and Yaegashi watched his perplexing behavior as he emitted a feral growl, looking towards the window behind Kome, and they turned to glance out the darkened panes. Moving closer to the window, the frigid temperature began to increase and Kome thought the she could even see her breath forming a faint cloud in front of her face, which was impossible, of course.

"What is it boy?" Kome asked, stepping closer to the window, her skin crawling and an irrational fear welling up inside her.

It felt like someone had just walked over her grave, she mused, and tried to brush away the uncomfortable feeling. Crossing her arms over her breasts against the frigid coldness, she narrowed her eyes and looked through the darkness, but still was unable to see anything.

Yaegashi came up behind her and peered over her shoulder, murmuring, "What does he see? Do you think it's another Tengugaki?"

Kome shook her head and shrugged, her hands dropping to her sides as the chill passed. "I don't know," she replied looking back at the dog, now silent, just sitting there and staring at them. "But whatever it was, it' appears to be gone now."

So the Kushinada was going to take possession of the child, Zan Kazai mused speculatively. _Momiji _– this was the name of the Kushinada. Once you knew its name, it gave you power of it, came the insidious thought. The word Momiji sunk into the depths of his twisted mind and brought forth an even more twisted smile as an idea began to form and take root.

Akumakai feared the power of the Kushinada, Zan Kazai told himself. Why? Because the Arch Daemon was vulnerable to her as long as he was without the hybrid child.

So what was to stop him, Zan Kazai, from utilizing the power of her name and killing the Kushinada, thus disposing of Akumakai's power and then taking the child himself? With Tamanasu out of the way, it would be too easy! It was the perfect plan, he thought smugly, and his smile widened at his own brilliance. His pale eyes flitted to the two humans standing at the window in front of him, staring through him without seeing him, for he was not ready to be seen as of yet.

But soon, that would change, he reflected; just as soon as the Kushinada exposed herself to him and took possession of the child, then everything would be within his grasp. With her death, he would banish Akumakai and he would rule the Underworld. And then with the power of the hybrid child, he would have unlimited access to the Over World as well. His pale eyes filled with a malevolent hunger at the thought, and he retreated even further from the window, but not so far that he would lose sight of his target. He could be patient. He could wait. He would have all that he wanted soon enough.

Kusanagi rolled over onto his side and tried to ignore the gnawing hunger in his still tight body, and the dull, burning pains that needled across his chest. He closed his eyes, and the image of Momiji's green eyes shimmering in the darkness filled his mind, followed by the memory of her softness and the taste of her lips, and he became fully aroused within a matter of seconds. His eyes shot open and he grimaced in aggravation. _Dammit!_ he growled to himself, his brows pulling into a harsh frown over his catlike eyes. Without turning on the light, he pushed himself off the bed and prowled over to the window with feline grace.

This was ridiculous! he scowled to himself, pushing impatiently at the stray locks of greenish black hair that lay against his forehead. He was so ensnared by her that he couldn't even control his own body! He had become accustomed to that fact when he was around her; but hell, he railed silently, surely he should be able to control it when he _wasn't _with her?

He reached out and unlatched the window, tugging sharply against the sash to open it so that cold air wafted into the room and flowed across his fevered skin. Leaning his bare shoulder tiredly against the window frame, he closed his eyes on a weary sigh and let the air glide soothingly over the burns on his chest, even managing to relax a bit as the tightness in his groin began to lessen.

His eyes still closed, he let his mind wander, but tried to keep it from straying to the green eyes siren in the room down the hall, when a sudden memory of Susano-oh's words surged over him and he found his breathing become erratic as chaotic emotions swirled through his chest, making his heart beat wildly.

_She holds the light of hope, Kusanagi. The power of a giving heart can overcome any obstacle. Protect her well. She is my gift to you._

Kusanagi opened his eyes and stared at the small sliver of the crescent moon that hung in the cloudless sky overhead.

"My gift to you," he mumbled, and then asked himself, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

But deep inside he already knew what it meant. He pushed away from the window and with long, quiet strides re-crossed to the bed. Stretching out onto his side once again, he continued to look towards the window, still able to feel the draft of cooling air coming from it, but not as well as before.

_My gift to you_. The gift of a god. To him. A man that wasn't worthy of such a prize. Dare he accept what had been offered? God knew he wanted to. Before he could think about it further, he became aware of another presence in the room with him, and a shadow fell across the bed as the light from the hall was blocked carrying with it the smell of honeysuckle.

Momiji, he groaned silently with dread.

He rolled over to look at her, but found himself pinned, mid-roll onto his back, as she pelted with amazing agility and speed across the room, before suddenly skidding onto the bed and then bouncing across it to land hard on top of him . Kusanagi made a slight whooshing sound as all of the air was pushed from his lungs upon the impact of her body, his head jerking back when her forehead smacked into his chin with a numbing blow.

"Wh-wh-whoops!" she gasped, struggling to sit up, her body astride his as she rubbed her forehead and looked through the darkness at him in apology. "S-sorry 'bout that. I tr-ripped – didn't m-m-ean to land with quite such f-f-force." And then her face scrunched in irritation and she mumbled something that sounded like, "I sh-sh-should have changed."

Momiji looked down at her legs and tried to move. But they were ensnared restrictively within the shroud like folds of her robe and gown, and she found she was suffering from the same problem as earlier when she had fallen in the living room and been unable to rise, penned in place by her own clothes.

"Th-th-this just won' work," she mumbled tiredly to herself, forgetting about Kusanagi for a moment as she tried to solve her dilemma and missing the puzzled look he shot her.

There was no sofa here to aid her in escape, so she stuck her tongue out in a concentrated grimace and began to tug and squirm, trying to pull the fabric loose from beneath her.

Kusanagi's face registered shock, and he immediately stiffened beneath her, feeling, quite clearly, the effects of her gyrations against the part of him that he had taken such pains to try and subdue. Clenching his jaw, he looked up at her face as she continued to maneuver around and knew that she was completely oblivious to the state of affairs directly beneath her.

God help him, he thought, his mouth pulled into a toothy grimace as he brought his gloved hands up and clamped them around her waist to arrest her movements.

"You're killing me," he breathed in a choked whisper and Momiji stopped tugging to look down at his shadowed face, her eyes wide.

"Hm?" she said, sitting back so that Kusanagi bit back a moan, feeling the weight of her body press invitingly against him. Momiji stifled a yawn, and not having clearly heard his words, she asked him with a sleepy look of inquiry, "wha' was that you said?"

Kusanagi took a deep, shuddering breath and managed in a strained voice, "What are you doing here, Momiji?"

Momiji's face lit with determination as she recalled why she had come, and, letting go of the bunched up fabric in her fist, she exposed the tube of burn ointment, holding it close to his face so he could see it through the darkness.

"I kn-knew you wouldn't do anythin' 'bout your-r-chest, so I came to f-f-fix you up," she chirped brightly.

"I don't need you to fix me up!" he all but shouted at her and watched her jump a little at the unexpected violence in his voice, a slightly hurt look on her face.

Kusanagi immediately regretted his words, but it couldn't be helped, he thought resolutely, hanging on to his restraint by a mere thread. He had to get her up and off of him before he died from sexual frustration.

"Please get up, Momiji," he requested calmly, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.

Momiji sat quietly eyeing him in the darkness, as if she was trying to discern the expression on his face. Then after a long minute she finally responded, but it wasn't the response that Kusanagi had been hoping for.

"I'll'l get up if y-y-ou'll stop acting like s-such a beast and lemme help you," she bargained quietly.

Kusanagi was about to respond with a resounding '_Hell, NO!_" when her attention abruptly shifted away from him. Apparently she was still concerned with how confined she felt and she began squirming again, yanking at her gown and robe at the knees and grinding her body against his inflamed groin. Kusanagi's fingers tightened against her hips but he was unable to hold her completely still.

"_Gggggg…_" a gurgling sound choked out between gritted teeth. His eyes closed, he resisted with all his strength the urge to pull her tighter against him, trying to deny the need to feel the cleft of her body against his rigid hardness. "Okay!' he panted, "okay, Momiji!"

Momiji smiled in surprised pleasure at his capitulation, immediately ceasing her struggles to look at his face, noticing for the first time, the tiny beads of sweat the clung to Kusanagi's forehead, despite the chill of the room.

"I'll let you 'fix me up'- I promise -," he assured her, still huffing a little, "but first….just let me…sit up…okay?"

"Are you f-f-feeling all r-r-ight?" Momiji asked him in a sleepy voice, trying to lean forward and feel his head, a bolt of alarm shooting through her when Kusanagi moaned as she did so. "You'r-r-e not r-r-running a fever, again, ar-r-e you?"

"God! Please stop!" he ground out, his face scrunched up in what looked like a grimace of pain and Momiji's alarm grew.

"Oh, no!" she breathed, leaning closer to his face, "wh-wh-wha's wrong, Sk- Sk – K'sanagi?"

She put a tentative had to his forehead and a puzzled frown creased her forehead. His brow was cool to the touch if a little damp. Momiji leaned back and her frown deepened as Kusanagi jerked reflexively with her movements. She felt his fingers tighten around her waist - another action that she interpreted as a sign of some kind of distress he was experiencing.

"Hmm," she ruminated, her sleep blurred eyes struggling to focus on him, "you don' haf a f-f-fever. But –"

"If you will just _GET OFF OF ME!_" he growled none too pleasantly, his cat-like eyes popping open to glare at her, "I will feel _MUCH BETTER!_"

Momiji shot him a look of reproach and said repressively, "Well you don' haf to be s-s-so cr-r-rabby 'bout it!"

She made to rise, but didn't get very far before she stopped and then subsided against him, causing him to shudder once more.

After the shockwave passed, Kusanagi gave her a look that seethed with frustration, and hissed between gritted teeth, "What are you waiting for?"

Momiji pointed to her waist and said in a whuffly, prosaic way, "I'm stuck. I can't get up 'til you let go, Sk – K'sanagi."

"Oh," he replied stupidly.

Kusanagi's gaze shifted to his fingers, which were cemented into place, and he found that he had a difficult time persuading them to release her. It seemed that they were firmly convinced that he was enjoying being tortured by Momiji's unwitting movements and were more than happy to let it continue – maybe even escalate; something that his brain refused to let happen.

After a brief internal struggle, mind overcame matter and he managed to rip his fingers away, quickly rolling from beneath her and sprinting over to the window to feel the blast of frigid air before Momiji had managed to emerge from her own battle, finally shedding her robe to rid herself of part of her problem.

After a few moments, she followed him, coming up behind him, shivering as the winter's night air seeped through the thin cotton of her nightgown. Perhaps she should have left her robe on, she thought hazily as her teeth clacked together, and she moved closer to Kusanagi, letting his body act as a blockade against the cold. After a few seconds, Momiji reached out and touched his shoulder with a tentative finger, but he didn't move.

He just continued to stand there, his back to her, framed by the window, and she wondered how he could stand such extreme cold without flinching. She also wondered if being exposed to it was what had elicited his strange reactions earlier on the bed. If so, it probably wasn't a good idea to be standing there like that, she concluded with fuzzy logic.

With that thought in mind, she moved around him and squeezed in next to him, raising her arms and grabbing the sash. Before she could pull it down, Kusanagi reached out, his hands wrapping around her wrists to stop her.

"What are you doing?" he quietly demanded against her ear and Momiji shivered, unsure if it was from the cold air rushing unimpeded against her body or the heat of Kusanagi's breath against her neck.

"I'm goin' to close th-th-the window," Momiji mumbled.

Another shiver ran up her spine when Kusanagi pulled on her wrists, causing her to lose her grip, and he slowly brought her arms closer to her body, his arms acting as a cage, encircling her. Momiji felt a dizzying wave of pleasure begin to flow over her and she would have leaned back against him but he suddenly let her go and stepped away.

"If you're cold, then move away from the window, but I want it left open," he told her in an expressionless voice, moving across the room in lithe strides to switch the light on.

Momiji narrowed her tired eyes against the sudden brightness and she slowly moved away from the window, being careful to keep herself from staggering.

Kusanagi watched her approach, and knew from her movements that she still couldn't feel her feet. A flicker of amusement flitted across his face at that realization and abruptly vanished as his eyes flitted downwards across her body towards her feet, never making it to their destination.

_Where in the hell was her flannel thingy?_ he bellowed in shock to himself.

He balled his hands into fists and tried to keep his chin from hitting the floor as she moved towards him. It might not be flannel, his mind tried to reassure him, but it was the next, best thing, logically pointing out to him that it was long and voluminous and it covered her from the neck all the way down to her toes.

But no matter how sound the logic of his brain's reasoning might be, the rest of him didn't buy it, for his body was busy responding to what the sheerness of the 'next best thing' revealed that flannel did not as his eyes were able to clearly make out the curves of her body, reaffirming the fact that Momiji's body was no longer that of a child but of a woman – a fact that he had known for some time, but one that had never been made as blatantly obvious as it was now.

He should have left the light off, he silently lamented, his eyes devouring the sight of the rounded curves of her breasts before moving down to her tiny waist and then to the flare of her hips before finally swinging upwards again, coming to rest on her chest. Kusanagi broke out in a sweat and struggled to breath evenly as Momiji slowly came ever nearer, and he glimpsed the faint blush of pink where the swell of her breasts brushed against the sheer, white fabric. He was in serious trouble, he thought.

With monumental effort, he forced his staggered gaze back to Momiji's face as she finally came to a stop in front of him, staring at him from sleepy, innocent eyes. And he wondered how she could be so oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

"It w'would probably be better on th'bed," she told him and Kusanagi blinked at her words, not quite following her train of thought, a fact which wasn't helped by the fact that his gaze kept trying to slide to her breasts.

'I – I –" he stammered unintelligibly before finally saying, "what the heck are you talking about?"

Momiji held up the tube of burn ointment.

"If I yam going to f-fi-fix you, it would probly be more c-c-comfortable on th-bed." She replied, omitting the fact that, because she was suddenly feeling so tired and dizzy, she might topple over if she had to stand there much longer.

Without waiting for him to respond she swiveled around, swaying precariously, but managing to maintain her balance without any assistance and trod carefully to the bed where she promptly sat down, a look of relief on her face. Then trying to get comfortable, she fiddled with the long row of buttons that ran the length of her nightgown, pulling along the sides of them to free the copious amounts of fabric tucked beneath her legs before she once again transferred her gaze to Kusanagi.

He remained frozen in the spot where she left him until she shot him an expectant look.

"C'mon," she demanded, "you promised, Sk… K'sanagi."

Kusanagi finally began moving forward on leaded feet, his gaze sweeping from her to her discarded robe, desperate to find something to help him resist temptation.

"I thought you were cold?" he asked her, hoping that perhaps he could get her to put the robe back on.

"When?" she asked, her sleepy brain unable to think beyond the moment.

"Over by the window," he replied, now standing directly in front of her, looking down at her, but making no move to sit beside her on the bed.

"No," she replied after a moment, her gaze swinging to the still open window before coming back to him. "I was a li'l worried that you might be getting s-s-sick."

"But you were shivering," he pursued with dogged determination, and watched mystified at the color that suddenly flooded her cheeks as her gaze slid shyly away from him.

"Well, that was jus' b'cause, um," Momiji hedged, looking at her toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her nightgown and remembering the feel of his arms around her, "- I might have been a li'l cold over there, but I'm f-f-fine now. I jus' don' want you to get sick. You may think you in-in-invisible, but I know that you're not."

Kusanagi's brows shot up, momentarily diverted by what she said. "Invisible?" he repeated.

"In-in-invisible?" she echoed in a puzzled way, her gaze pivoting from her toes back to his face. "What are you talking 'bout?"

"You just said that I thought I was invisible," he repeated again and watched her shake her head insistently.

"No. Tha's not what I said," she disputed with Momiji-like certainty, "I said that you think th-th-that you're in-in-invis – invis- " she stopped in frustration unable to get her mouth to work the way that she wanted it to and then settled for, "you th-think that you can't be beaten, that l-l-life's rules don' apply to you, but I kn-kn-know diffriendly, Mr. Sk – Sk- K'sanagi. You war just a human bean."

"A human bean," Kusanagi echoed again, and then added with a bit of a dry note, "yes, I guess you could call me a human bean."

"Wha," Momiji looked at the wry twist of his lips in confusion, unable to ascertain what he found so amusing. She shook it off, though, refusing to be sidetracked and said, "Ne'er mind," and patted the side of the bed next to her, "come siddown."

But Kusanagi balked, his gaze flickering from her face to her nightgown and back again. "I don't think that's such a good idea," he told her and she immediately pokered up.

Her mouth tightened into a mutinous line and the bridge of her nose wrinkled as her chestnut brows drew together over her sleepy eyes and she complained in an accusing voice, "You promised! A promise isa promise, Sk – K'sanagi. Now come siddown!"

She kept a baleful eye on him until he finally capitulated against his better judgment. But still trying to maintain his restraint, he positioned himself so that there was a good bit of distance separating them and he kept his eyes straight ahead, to keep them from straying to the sheer bodice of her nightgown.

The minute he was situated Momiji immediately slid over so that she was jammed up against his side and he silently groaned as she leaned forward, putting one hand on his thigh close to his groin for support, her breasts brushing against his arm as she tried to apply the ointment to his scalded chest.

"Would you please hurry," he urged in a strained voice and was rewarded with an exasperated sigh from her.

"Would you quit r-r-rushing me!" she demanded tiredly, leaning back and frowning at his profile. "I can't d-d-do a good job if you war rushing me!"

Kusanagi didn't say anything. He just gritted his teeth as she leaned forward again and made another effort to apply the ointment. After a few seconds of prolonged silence in which she continued to press against him, trying to reach the burns and Kusanagi sat, silently suffering all too aware of her, she finally sat back.

"This isn' working. You're going to have to t-t-turn around so I can r-r-reach you," she informed him and put her hand out giving his arm a tug.

Kusanagi turned automatically, just wanting to get it over with, bringing one leg up on the bed and crossing it in front of his body as Momiji critically examined his chest.

Her eyes moved over him, as she squeezed the little tube so that the white ointment slid out in a blob onto her finger. There were several burns that she had already managed to attend to, but the biggest one, which was to the left of the circle of mitamas in the center of his chest, still needed attention. Reaching up, she gently applied the ointment, her fingers moving in a slow, circular motion so as not to irritate the already inflamed skin. As she continued to spread the soothing ointment across his skin, her eyes slid to the bright blue mitamas, and without realizing it, her fingers slid away from the burn to touch the bottom most mitama, the tip of her index finger tracing around it.

"This one was mine, wasn't it?" she asked softly, her attention completely focused on the blue seed so that Kusanagi's silence went unnoticed. Using her thumb she rubbed it slowly over the smooth surface and a soft smile curved her lips, pleased with the notion that he carried a small part of her with him always. Momiji felt strong fingers wrap around her wrist, hindering her movement and Kusanagi's unexpected reaction caused her green gaze to shift to his face.

"Don't," he said heavily, a look of aversion on his face, and Momiji knew it was because he hated them.

With her free hand, Momiji touched his that held her other hand captive, her gaze dropping to their combined hands, focusing on the black leather that encased his hand, and she asked, "Why do you w-w-wear these all the time, K'sanagi?"

He didn't answer, and Momiji hadn't really expected him to. She let the fingers of her free hand glide over the smooth black leather, until she reached his wrist and then she wrapped her fingers beneath the edge, lifting it away from the bronze of his skin. Kusanagi's other hand immediately shot up and captured hers, and Momiji's sleepy gaze again returned to his face, and she saw the wariness in his expression.

"You w-w-wear them so you w-won't have to see them, don't you?" she prodded.

"It doesn't matter why I wear them," he responded diffidently.

"Take them off," she whispered to him, moving a little closer to him.

"What?" he asked, surprised at her request registering in his cat-like eyes.

"Please," she entreated sliding her hands free from his grasp and pulling at the leather of one of his gloves, "I want you to t-t-take them off."

Amazingly and despite her inebriated state, she managed to remove one before he could stop her.

"Why? Why do you want me to take them off?" he demanded in a strained voice, unable to summon up the will to stop her from removing the second one.

Momiji's didn't saying anything as she dropped the gloves to the bed, letting her sleep-laden gaze wander with fascination over his exposed hands. With the tips of fingers she slid her hands down the long lengths of his fingers, suddenly noticing, how strong and graceful his hands were. He had the hands of a pianist, she mused dreamily, and then she took one of them and turned it so that the palm was facing upwards, letting her index finger lightly trace the lines she found there.

"You have such s-s-strong hands," she told him before she turned it back over and looked at the back, her fingers feathering down its length while her thumbs brushed softly against the blue mitama. "And you sh-sh-shouldn't be ashamed of these," she whispered, letting her hands glide up his wrist before she added, "they give you the power to protect. Wh-where's the shame in th-th-that?"

Kusanagi didn't say anything. He couldn't. He found Momiji's simple actions feeding the part of his soul that hungered for acceptance, the part that was vulnerable to her special warmth and kindness, and so he stared at her, helpless to pull away.

Momiji returned her sleepy green eyes to his cat-like ones and she guided his unresisting hand to her face, resting his bare palm against her cheek. Her eyes slid closed in contentment and a small sigh escaped from her.

"S-S-Susano-oh told me that you war my destiny, you know… I keep hoping he's r-r-right," she whispered sleepily as if in a dream, unaware that she had uttered the words aloud.

"How would he know?" he muttered doubtfully, making a last ditch effort to resist her.

"Well he is a god," she replied, a sweet smile curving her lips. Suddenly feeling beyond tired, Momiji opened her eyes with great effort, the room taking on a hazy quality around her, and everything slipped away from her senses except the feel of his warm hand against her face. Her eyes drifted half-closed in contentment and she rubbed her cheek against his palm.

The feeling faded somewhat when she looked up and saw the look of intense struggle and pain in Kusanagi's eyes. Giving him a searching look, she forced her eyes all the way open, raising her hand to his face, and brushing the tips of her fingers softly along his cheek. She wanted to comfort him, but knew that she could not offer him the solution that he craved. She could not make his blood run red. So instead she offered him the only thing she had, and hoped that it would be enough.

"Th-th-they don't matter to me. They never have," she told him fiercely and he knew she was talking about his mitamas. "N-n-nothing matters to me, except you." Her fingers dropped tiredly away from his face and she closed her eyes and whispered softly, "I love you, Kusanagi."

Kusanagi felt something give way in the middle of his chest at her words, and every ounce of his resistance crumbled. Leaning forward, he gently brushed his lips against hers, his hand sliding from her cheek to lace through the silky chestnut strands of her hair, enjoying the feel of it without the barrier of his gloves.

Momiji's felt her heart lurch in her chest as Kusanagi's lips moved across hers, first gently, then with increasing pressure, and she opened her mouth when she felt his tongue touch her lips. Momiji felt her breath catch in her chest and her senses began to swim dizzily as Kusanagi wrapped his arms around her, dragging her close to his bare chest before rolling her over so that she lay beneath him on the bed without breaking their embrace.

Trapped within a dreamlike haze Momiji surrendered herself to the swirling vortex of sensation rising within her, her fingers fluttering restively across the smoothness of Kusanagi's chest and shoulders as his lips left hers, trailing down her cheek and neck before continuing to move lower. Momiji bit her lip and moaned as she felt his mouth close over her breast through the thinness of the fabric of her gown. His tongue moved in lazy circles, causing her to arch against him as a liquid heat began to flow through her veins.

Kusanagi continued to nuzzle her and she was almost unaware that he had moved to slide the buttons of her nightgown free, until he had finished and pushed it open, exposing the length of her body to the cool night air seeping through the open window. Before she could become chilled, though, he shifted, so that she was blanketed by his warmth as he moved his body on top of hers. His lips trailed along the column of her neck and he gently cupped her naked breasts in the palms of his hands, using his thumbs to brush against the pink hardening tips, and she shivered in response.

"Are you cold," he whispered moving his lips against her neck, and his breath sent another shiver along her spine.

"N-n-no," Momiji moaned, sliding her hands restlessly down the smooth skin of his back and across the black fabric of his shorts, her fingers tracing the outlines of what had so captivated her earlier in the kitchen.

Her shy exploration fueling his own hunger, Kusanagi reclaimed her lips in a deep kiss and he let his hands drift lower, sliding across the flat of her stomach until he reached the flare of her hips and the silk of her panties. Hooking his fingers in the waistband, he slowly slid them downwards, letting the palms of his hands trail along the silken softness of her thighs and her calves until the panties were all the way off, and then he discarded them carelessly in the floor.

Settling himself against her once again, he reached down and began to stroke her, his fingers sliding against her, creating a strange tension deep inside her. Momiji moaned into his mouth and moved restlessly against his hand as the sensation grew, her fingers pressing against his buttocks as she arched her back against him in an instinctive gesture.

Sensing that she was on the edge of release, Kusanagi pulled back, getting ready to remove his black shorts when the unthinkable happened and his eyes shot open in fury and disbelief.

The phone rang.

Kusanagi began to swear loud and long, knowing that he couldn't ignore it. It could be about the Tengugaki, after all. He raised his head and looked helplessly into Momiji's sleepy eyes. She slowly dropped her hands away from him and when he pulled away from her, she rolled over onto her side, shyly pulling her gown together to hide her nakedness. Without a word, Kusanagi rolled off the bed and snatched up the phone, ready to tear into whomever was on the other end.

His snarled hello was greeted by silence and then a hesitant voice said, "Kusanagi?"

Kusanagi stiffened, his body quivering in shock as recognition rocketed through him.

"Midori?" he breathed, his anger dissolving into surprise.

"Oh, god," she said, sounding wretched, "I – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called –"

"No! Wait! Where are you?" he cried, but it was too late; she had already hung up. "Dammit!" he growled in frustration, slamming the phone down.

He turned back to the bed where Momiji lay, and stiffened in disbelief once again, forgetting about Midori in the wake of a more immediate problem.

Momiji was fast asleep.

His mouth hanging open, Kusanagi moved to the side of the bed and stared down at her, his frustration reaching new heights.

Perhaps she wasn't really asleep, he thought desperately to himself and put out a hand to give her a gentle shake.

Nothing.

She was dead to the world.

"Dammit!" he growled again shoving his hand through his hair and looking down at her peaceful expression before sliding to her open nightgown. Crouching down and with shaking hands, he began to refasten each and every button, saying a curse for each one that he slid back into place. As he finished, he dropped a light kiss against her cheek and pulled the covers over her. Standing straight once again, he found his eyes drawn to the flimsy white fabric of her discarded panties lying in the floor next to him and he scowled.

They were going to have to stay there, for there was _NO WAY IN HELL _that he was going to put himself through the torture of trying to put them on her. Having made that decision, he turned and stalked around to the other side of the bed, seething with pent up frustration as he climbed onto the mattress next to her, his back to her, facing the window.

Kusanagi closed his eyes, and despite his frustration, he felt a sense of calm invade him as he realized what tonight had meant.

_She is my gift to you._

The words echoed through him and the feeling of peace increased. Kusanagi smiled to himself, for he had finally made his decision, and it was one that he could happily live with. He would accept the Storm god's gift whether he was worthy or not, knowing what a precious and wondrous gift Momiji's love was and knowing too that he would love her in return for the rest of his life.

153


	25. 24 Kingdom For A Sword

Chapter 24. Kingdom for a Sword

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Darkness spread over Tokyo like a filthy shadow, the glare from the streetlights, the towering skyscrapers and the constant flux of light from the streaming traffic thinned the purity of night's ebony color, choking out the stars and blotting out the deep velvet of the evening sky. Murakumo's lips curled in disgust, a strand of raven black hair blowing across his face as he stood overlooking the sparkling brightness of the skyline. His hands were thrust deeply into his pockets, his eyes hard and condemning, and he saw no sign of beauty in the artificial shimmer of electricity pulsing through the heart of the city.

He had known what he would find here. That was why he had come. He had needed to regain his sense of purpose that seemed to be wavering. Especially since…he briefly closed his eyes against the heat that flared through his veins as he recalled this morning with Midori. The satin feel of her skin, the softness of her lips, the way her body had perfectly fitted around his; such incredible pleasure. Murakumo's eyes shot open and he ruthlessly shoved the images from his mind, looking out over the city once more, concentrating on the unruly mass of humanity that sprawled below him.

This is what he hated about humans, he reminded himself savagely; their vileness, their selfishness, covering every scrap of green with asphalt - polluting the air and the earth with their human waste for convenience sake; uncaring that the air was unfit to breathe and the earth beneath them was dying. Not one of them deserved to inhabit the land that they defiled, he silently condemned.

And then the unwanted image of soft brown eyes flashed through his mind and he heard Midori's hesitant voice again asking: _You don't really think we're all like that, do you?_

Pinpoints of the city's lights reflected in the coldness of his steel grey eyes as he forced himself to focus, finding his answer to her question sprawling in front of him below. Yes. They were all the same - every last one of them.

She wasn't like that, came the rebellious and unwelcome notion.

Murakumo's grey eyes narrowed in a cold fury at the sudden turn his thoughts had taken.

Impossible! he vehemently disavowed, unwilling to acknowledge such blasphemy. They were _all_ the same, her included, he assured himself, again ruthlessly shoving the image of her dark hair and brown eyes out of his mind.

No. They are not, was the swift and resounding reply. _She's_ _not like that. She saved your life._

Ridiculous! he argued hotly, he would not accept it. He would have managed without her, he stubbornly maintained. After all, he was Aragami, and Aragami were not like humans. They weren't as weak, and they could sustain quite a bit of damage before their lives became threatened. It was unacceptable to think otherwise, he insisted - s_he _was unacceptable, just another pitiful human.

But still he could not shake the memory of her body beneath his and the echoing sound of her voice - 'you don't really think we're all like that, do you?'

Then that soft and treacherous voice inside his head began again.

She is different.… She has given to you without condition - A girl with the means to save your soul, who risked her own life to protect you…She has put her world in peril for you, for she knows what you are, and what have you given her in return? You have used her as a convenience, taking what she has offered for your own sake. Just as the humans that you so despise…she was right. You ARE no better than the humans…

He turned away and closed his eyes, a laugh of self-derision rising up, soft at first and then louder until his shoulders were shaking, his mouth twisting in bitterness.

What was this he was feeling?

Guilt?

Remorse?

For a _human?_

What a fool he had become! He was letting emotion interfere with his clarity of mind. Had he forgotten everything that he had struggled for? The plan that he had so carefully constructed three years ago to re-establish his Kingdom of the Aragami? Was he going to throw it all away just because of one human girl? He should have never given into the impulse to lie with her, he berated himself; for he had only strengthened the hold she seemed to have on that trifling part of him that defied reason.

It was hard to believe that there was even a part of him that defied reason, he thought scornfully, but there had to be; otherwise he would not be – _feeling _– what he was feeling now. Emotions were for the weak, he persisted in disgust, baffled because of the strong hold they seemed to wield over him.

Enough!

Murakumo stiffened and pulled his hands from his pockets, his mouth thinning into a determined line. Stalking over to the ledge of the roof, he looked down into Susano-oh Memorial Park where the huge cherry tree stood. He put his hand up to his chest and lightly pressed. It was still sore, but only just. It was time to try again, he thought, ignoring the pull of emotion that coaxed him to give up. Raising his hand, he again concentrated all of his energy, focusing it, reaching out.

A light sheen of perspiration broke out across his forehead as his chest began to tighten in protest to the strain he was putting on his weakened mitama. But he ignored it, the image of Midori's face goading him. He would NOT let emotions overrule him, he determined, the pain getting worse as he kept seeking a servant. He closed his eyes and concentrated harder, the pain rising in a pulsating crest through his chest. Then, just as the pain was becoming too much, he felt it.

Murakumo's eyes shot open and he smiled in gloating triumph as he let his hand fall back to his side, suppressing his energy flow once again and the discomfort in his chest began to lessen. He had done it, he thought exultantly, dismissing the disruptive feeling of disappointment that assailed him. Finally, he would begin to put his plan into motion, he told himself as he looked down into the park, his eyes scanning the gloom for signs of movement.

There, just beneath the shadow of the giant tree, he saw it. Stepping off the ledge, he flitted down into the park and wandered beneath the branches to greet his awakened servant.

"Sekage," he acknowledged, watching as the brown tree lizard began to grow before his eyes. "The rebirth or our kingdom is almost at hand," he prophesized, "and now I charge you with an important task. You must find my heir and his – mother - for me."

The giant lizard raised its head, cocking it to the side, and then bowed before once again shrinking and disappearing through the dead leaves that covered the ground beneath the giant tree. Its claws made a faint rustling noise as it scurried away. Murakumo stood listening to his servant depart, until his ears picked up the sound of something else rapidly approaching him from behind, its breathing fast and hollow.

He turned and saw it, the same glaring red eyes and black mitama as the creature that had struck him down inside the iwatto. It leapt towards him with an echoing roar, its claws stretching to rip through his chest but he managed to evade it, flitting out of the way so that instead of inflicting a lethal blow, its claws sliced through the flesh of his arm. Murakumo ignored the stinging pain as it turned and regrouped, and a white-hot fury began to burn behind his eyes as the creature approached him yet again.

"Only the lowliest of scum attacks the enemy while his back is turned," he glowered. "And now that I know you're here, you will not find me an easy target. I've killed one of your brethren already, and if you wish to rush headlong to your death, then come ahead!" he snarled and drew his blades, bracing his legs apart to prepare for the creature's onslaught.

It stopped moving, its breath hissing through its jagged fangs, and a calculating look flitted through is slitted eyes as it studied Murakumo and his blades. Murakumo kept his grey eyes focused intently on it, watching it for the slightest movement, wanting to be prepared for any special attack it might unleash.

But it surprised him by turning away from him and burrowing into the soil, disappearing beneath the earth before Murakumo had the chance to stop it.

"The hell you say," Murakumo murmured incredulously to himself, slowly moving forward to the churned up pile of earth, studying it.

A black mitama, but not one from his kingdom, he mused, feeling dazed and wondering why he hadn't remembered sooner the one from the first attack. He only recalled it now, after seeing this second one, and he scowled at such an unforgivable oversight on his part.

It was _her _fault, he inwardly seethed. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with her, then he would have remembered it, he thought harshly.

Slowly turning away, lost in his thoughts, he was pulled up short by the whisper of a sound from somewhere beneath the barren branches of the giant cherry tree, and his head whipped around as he stared into the shadowy darkness. "Your intentions are useless."

"Kaede," he hissed, quivering with rage, his eyes flitting wildly through the gloom, seeking to find the owner of the voice.

"The mother of your child is dead, Murakumo," came her words, brimming with accusation.

Murakumo's rage suddenly died and something akin to disbelief flitted across his face as the image of silver-white hair and the violet eyes flashed through his mind.

"Impossible," he softly denied, his eyes taking on a glazed look as he absorbed Kaede's words.

"What did you expect, Murakumo? Did you really think that she would be able to sleep the sleep of the Aragami without suffering? Her body was not meant to slumber that long and as a result, the birth of your child ended her life," Kaede informed him, her voice latent with recrimination.

"And the child?" Murakumo demanded after a long moment of silence. When she didn't reply, he took a step toward the tree, making a slashing motion with his hand, his voice becoming harsh, "Answer me, damn you!"

"The child lives," Kaede told him reluctantly, and then to his surprise, added, "he is with Momiji."

"The Kushinada," Murakumo said his voice faint with surprise. He remained unmoving, his mouth slightly agape, reeling from Kaede's unreserved disclosure. But then his eyes narrowed in suspicion and his mouth snapped shut to form a hard, thin line. "Why do you tell me this?"

There was no reply and Murakumo thought she had gone when she finally answered, saying in a quiet voice, "If it were up to me, I would have never told you. But it matters little, since your kingdom will never be."

"The hell you say," Murakumo hissed, his face reddening uncharacteristically and becoming taut with fury.

"You have a new enemy, Murakumo - one that you have faced twice now," Kaede informed him, her voice more faint than before, "their numbers are endless and they will devour your kingdom, heart and soul should you proceed with your plans…so unless you wish your race to suffer complete annihilation, I would suggest that you put aside your personal ambitions and concentrate on defeating them instead of the humans."

Her voice trailed off at the end, leaving Murakumo standing alone under the shadowed branches of the tree, chaotic thoughts churning through his mind. His child – a son, he mused, and he was with the other Kushinada. It was not mere chance, but the machinations of Fate that had wrought such a deed, and Murakumo, carefully mulling over Kaede's words, wondered if he dared believe her.

A black mitama and yet it had no Aragami soul, he mused.

Could it be that this new enemy had found a way to destroy the soul without destroying the mitama? If that were the case, then what Kaede said could very well be true. And if Murakumo tried to resurrect his kingdom now, he would only be imperiling those that he awakened. But could he trust her? She had proved traitorous before, so why should he believe any information that she chose to give him now?

But you have seen them with your own eyes, that rebellious voice within him pointed out and Murakumo gritted his teeth in irritation. He turned away and took a bounding leap, moving from rooftop to rooftop, his face reflecting the turbulence that seethed inside. He couldn't decide what he should do. And so he decided, that for now, he would do nothing. He would wait for this new enemy to further reveal itself and then he would decide if what Kaede had told him was true.

But regardless of his decision, he thought in determination, he would find his son. Even if he were forced to abandon his plans for his kingdom at the present, there would still come a day of reckoning between the humans and the Aragami. He would make sure of it.

His arms crossed over his chest and looking down at his expensive brown, Italian loafers, Sugishita leaned against the whitewashed cinderblock wall of the hospital corridor next to the door marked 'Surgical Waiting Room'. He listened with half an ear to the murmured conversation between Ms. Matsudaira and her former ex-husband, now once-again husband and noted with dismay that there was a large wad of gum stuck to the sole of his shoe.

"Oh, man!" he groaned, pushing away from the wall, his blue eyes crinkling as a pout pulled the corners of his mouth downward.

Matsu paused in her conversation, her dark eyes flickering over to him. "What is it?"

Sugishita continued examining his shoe, but waved his hand in her direction, saying absently, "It's nothing, just a wad of gum. I think I can get it off if I scrape it against the curb outside."

Matsu rolled her eyes and with a slight shake of her head, turned back to her husband.

"I'll be back in a minute," Sugi told them, though neither of them was really listening, and started off down the hall.

Head bent, he didn't bother watching where he was going. Instead he immersed himself in observing his shoe as he walked, noting that the gum was making a _thwick, thwick_ sound every time he lifted his foot. How had he picked it up and not noticed it before now? he wondered in consternation, feeling the gum squish down and stick as he applied pressure to his foot.

His preoccupation with the Great Gum Debate lasted until he made it to the emergency ward where it abruptly ended when he overhead the fragmented speech of two medical staff members inside an examination room.

" –this is the sixth one today. Never seen anything like it; the skin and hair, all white like that. What the hell is causing it? –"

Sugishita's head shot up and he stopped mid-stride, the gum completely forgotten and he crept closer to the door that one of them had inadvertently left cracked open, being careful to remain unseen.

"Do you think it's some new sort of viral strain or something?" the other one said.

"Yeah, right," the first one scoffed, his voice getting louder as if he was approaching the door on the other side, "have you ever seen a virus chew a man's arm in half like that? Don't be stupid! It's got to be some sort of experimental animal or something. You know how the government is always messin' with stuff like that – "

The rest of the conversation was cut off as the door suddenly snapped shut. But Sugishita had heard all that he needed to hear. Turning on his heel, he started back up the hallway again, his normally fatuous look of unconcern replaced with a grim one. The TAC was not going to like this one little bit. It was beginning to look like the epidemic that they had feared was about to begin.

Kusanagi jerked awake, and stared unseeing up at the darkened ceiling, his breathing rapid, as the energy from his souls thrummed through his body. This feeling… it was – He broke off the thought, the muscles in his shoulders tensely bunching up at the familiarity of the call. Sitting up, his eyes flew to the still open window and he tried to slow his breathing as the feeling began to dim.

Sliding out of bed, he prowled over to the window and looked out into the night, the somberness of his profile thrown into the shadows. All was quiet, but he had expected that; the summons had come far from here. The energy was completely gone now, and in its place was a growing sense of disquiet that Kusanagi couldn't seem to stifle. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that it had been Orochi's summons. But that was impossible. Orochi was dead. Susano-oh had killed him three years ago.

But still…

Rubbing the backs of his hands, Kusanagi half turned from the window and became lost in thought. It had definitely been a summons of some sort. He was sure of it. But whose? Thinking rapidly, he recalled the green Aragami blood that Ryoko and Kome had discovered in Takachiho where Midori had disappeared and then recalled Midori's phone call from earlier in the evening.

The summons hadn't come from there, but what if…?

Perhaps he should make a trip to Takachiho in the morning, he speculated, just to be sure. And then, if he didn't find anything, maybe even go further north, towards Tokyo since that was the direction where the flow was stemming from.

His deliberations were interrupted when the quiet of the room was broken by a muted sound of distress. Breaking off his thoughts, Kusanagi turned his head sharply back towards the bed, his cat-like eyes focusing on where Momiji lay. She had been quiet just moments before, but now she was thrashing around, the long strands of her hair becoming crushed and tangled beneath her as her head moved restlessly from side to side on her pillow.

She was having a nightmare, he realized, completely turning away from the window and rapidly crossing the room to the bed. He crawled across the mattress and, kneeling beside her, put a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmured her name. But she seemed unaware of his touch, too ensorcelled by the unseen visions that haunted her. Her face was drawn into lines of panic and a strangled cry was caught in her throat, imprisoned by her lips that were clamped tightly together. Tightening his fingers against her shoulder, he shook her harder, wanting to free her from the invisible terror that gripped her

With a start Momiji opened her eyes, her lips finally parting to release the pent up cry as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Unaware of Kusanagi and the room around her, her eyes remained unfocused and full of fear, as the wisps of the nightmare faded with a lingering slowness. It was the iwatto. She had been dreaming of the iwatto again; of Kaede and Kusanagi and then of Tamanasu, and she couldn't dispel the knot of terror and dread that she had in the middle of her chest.

"N-no! - Please, come back," Momiji choked, and a tear slid down her face.

Suddenly she found herself pulled up from her pillow and wrapped snugly against a warm chest smelling faintly of juniper and sandalwood. Of their own volition, Momiji's arms came up and automatically encircled Kusanagi's waist as comforting fingers began to stroke the back of her head. Pressing her cheek closer against the warmth of his skin, she closed her eyes and slowly began to relax.

"It's all right now," Kusanagi murmured comfortingly to her.

Momiji burrowed deeper into his chest and she responded in a tight voice, "I'm afraid."

"It was just a dream," he reassured her.

"No," she replied brokenly, "I couldn't protect him, I couldn't save Noa from Tamanasu."

"Tamanasu is dead, Momiji, and you did save Noa," he reminded her softly.

"No," she lamented, "Kaede saved him. Not me. I can't protect him." Suddenly she was sobbing and Kusanagi could feel her hot tears fall against his chest, her torment over the revelations of her dreams very real. 'I want to, I told Kaede that I would, b-but - I can't!"

His arm tightened around her willing to give anything at that moment to make her pain go away. "Why can't you?" he inquired quietly.

"Because I am not strong enough!" came her anguished reply, her sobs louder than ever, the picture of Noa and Tamanasu seared into her memory as if it was a premonition instead of a dream.

"- Then let me be your strength," Kusanagi whispered to her.

Momiji's sobs ceased, and she snuffled in surprise. She pulled slightly away from him so that she could look up into his face. Her tear-drenched eyes were wide as she studied his expression. He returned her gaze steadily, but it was too dark to see clearly so she stammered, "Wh-what did you say?"

Kusanagi reached out and cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears as he softly repeated, "Let me be your strength Momiji."

Momiji brought her fingers up and curled them around his wrists. "But you – I didn't think that – what I mean is, I know how you have suffered because of the Aragami and how much you hate them, Kusanagi. If I were you, I would hate them too - and even though Noa is not completely Aragami, his father is… He is my responsibility. Mine and mine alone," she told him in a heavy voice.

Kusanagi pulled her face closer to his, leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "Not alone, never alone," he whispered, "I would do anything for you, Momiji. Surely you know that by now?"

His words created a dizzying effect that left her speechless so that when Momiji opened her mouth, nothing came out for a moment. When she did finally did get something out, it was only a stammered, "I – I – I…."

Kusanagi silenced her by pressing his lips against hers in a soft lingering kiss and Momiji's breath fluttered to a stop in her throat as her heart beat wildly against her ribs. Finally breaking off the kiss, he let his hands drift away from her face, wrapping them once more around her body to pull her unresistingly down on the bed. Stretching out next to her on his back, his arm beneath her, he pulled her snugly against him until her face was nestled against his shoulder, and then he grabbed her arm to place it across his body, so that she held him in an embrace, his other hand going to her face where his fingers gently brushed the tendrils of hair away from her temple in a rhythmic motion.

"Go to sleep Momiji," he told her, a lulling softness in his words.

Momiji's arm briefly tightened around him. "Kusanagi, I – "

"Shhh," he soothed, "It's okay, Momiji. He'll be okay. Together, we'll make sure of it."

Momiji heaved a contented sigh and let her eyes drift close. Almost immediately she fell into a peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware of the troubled expression on Kusanagi's face. He glanced out the window once more, thinking about the journey he would make on the morrow and hoped that nothing would come of it. After a few moments, he too closed his eyes, knowing that he needed to be rested in case his fears were confirmed and he was forced to fight a battle with the reawakened King of the Aragami.

The phone still clutched in her hand, Midori sat on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest, and, dropping her head down, she curled into a protective ball. She squeezed her eyes closed, all too aware of the tense, burning pain in her chest and not knowing what to do to relieve it. Right now it seemed as if things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Well, it's your own fault that you're in this mess, she told herself sharply, trying to fight off the smothering wave of self - pity that blanketed her. Her fingers tightened convulsively around the phone before she finally lifted her face from her knees and put the phone back on the cradle.

It was bad enough that you've been secretly harboring an Aragami from the TAC, she harshly castigated herself – but to actually give your body to him?

What is wrong with you, Midori?

Midori closed her eyes in misery, replaying in her mind, once again, her first intimate encounter. She had always thought it would be a special moment shared with the man that she loved – not some act that was tainted with shame and sordidness like hers had become, she mused, remembering Murakumo's reaction after it had all been over.

As she had come crashing back to earth from the intensity of her climax, Midori had discovered, that despite the persistent warnings sounding in her head to guard it from him, she had promptly given her heart to a man whose only intent was to trample on it. And any fragile hope that she had harbored concerning his feelings for her had been completely shattered when he had rolled off of her, avoiding looking at her, his face dark and brooding like he'd been repulsed by what had happened between them. Without a word, he had dressed, and left the house, leaving Midori to struggle with the enormity of what she had done, her newfound feelings and his agonizing rejection of her.

He had been gone all day, and Midori glanced out the window at the darkness, allowing herself to wonder if Murakumo was going to come back. She dreaded seeing him again; afraid that he would only hurt her more, and yet at the same time she eagerly awaited his return, wanting to be assured of his safety.

Sick to heart of the tenor of her depressing thoughts, Midori restlessly rose from the sofa and wandered into the kitchen. With distracted motions, she opened the refrigerator and foraged for something to eat even though her stomach was in knots. But her thoughts continued to circle unrelentingly around Murakumo's dark hair and grey eyes and completely destroyed what little appetite she had left.

Why was it now, she asked herself, while he was gone, that she couldn't forget he was the enemy, but whenever he got close to her, she couldn't think straight? She might love him, but that didn't mean it was right to do so. He was her enemy; the leader of the Aragami, and he hated the human race. Her included.

He will only cause you pain.

How easy it was to tell herself that now, she thought bitterly, when the time she really needed to remember it was when he was near. For that was when her heart took over, conveniently forgetting that he was Aragami and she was his sworn enemy. She let the softness of his touch brush away all thoughts of protest. And the heat of desire in his eyes set fire to her senses, further eroding her resolve. It burned away all knowledge of the differences between them, leaving only her need for him and the overwhelming desire to mesh with the softness she sensed deep inside of him.

Without removing anything from the refrigerator, Midori closed it and moved over to the table, wishing that she had someone to talk to, someone who could advise her.

"Momiji, I wish I could talk to you," she sadly sighed, her thoughts centering on her best friend.

But that avenue was closed to her, she thought dismally, since she now knew that Kusanagi was there in Izumo with Momiji. When she had called earlier, she had been depending on Momiji being alone, and now that she knew that she wasn't, that changed things drastically. Momiji would never consciously betray Midori's confidence, and if she had been alone, Midori wouldn't have worried so much. But she wasn't alone, and Midori knew that by now everyone was aware that she had gone missing – Kusanagi included – and because he had answered Momiji's phone, if Midori had asked to speak to Momiji, there was no way that he would have allowed for Momiji to remain silent about why Midori was missing.

"You shouldn't be relying on others to solve your problems for you anyway, Midori, and learn to fix them on your own," she critically advised herself, and then jumped when she heard the front door slam hard up against the wall.

All thoughts flew from her mind and her heart leapt in her chest. Turning, she stuck her head around the kitchen door to see Murakumo standing there in the living room, a fatigued look on his face and a strange look in his eyes.

"You've been bleeding!" Midori exclaimed, her concern for him overriding the memories of this morning and all of her turbulent emotions. Everything was pushed aside the minute she laid eyes on him and saw the dried green blood streaming down his arm.

Murakumo watched her flit from the doorway of the kitchen to where he stood and remained unmoving as she took hold of his arm and began examining it, his eyes sliding searchingly over the sincere concern written across her features. Why did she have to be like this, dammit? He thought harshly to himself and he jerked his arm from her grasp to stalk past her, heading for his own room.

Midori bit her lip and watched him go, wincing as he slammed his door shut behind him, the memories of this morning suddenly rushing back to her. Drawing in a deep breath she turned and slowly reached for the front door, quietly closing it before returning to the kitchen. She couldn't go back, she resolutely told herself, so the only choice was to move forward. That meant putting what happened between them this morning aside as best she could and dealing with the here and now.

Following that piece of advice as best she could, she reached for her first aid kit and pulled it off the shelf. Then she turned and left the kitchen, her feet tracing Murakumo's steps until she stood just outside his door where she briefly hesitated.

Should she knock? she wondered, and lifted her fist where it hung, suspended in midair while she tried to decide what to do. What good was it to knock, she asked herself when his highness would just most likely ignore her, or worse, snarl at her to go away. So dropping her hand to the knob, she twisted it instead and slowly pushed the door open.

Poking her head around the door, her brown eyes gravitated to the bed where he lay with his back to her in his tattered trousers and his bloodied arm hanging laxly down the length of his body.

Shielding herself off from her emotions, Midori quietly entered the room and steadily made her way towards him, forcing herself not to hesitate when he bit out, "Why are you in here?" without turning to look at her.

She didn't bother to answer until she had reached the bedside. After letting her eyes critically wander over him, she turned away and placed her kit on the table, opening it and rummaging through it while she said, "I came here to help you."

"I don't need your help," he replied harshly.

"So you've told me on numerous occasions, but I've never let that stop me," she responded evenly, her dark eyes noting the resentful set of his shoulders.

Picking up her gauze and antiseptic, she moved forward to examine his arm closer only to fall back a step when he once again jerked away from her, his head snapping around to look at her. There was an untamed restlessness in his eyes that Midori had never seen before and she let her hands drop to her sides, sensing that she needed to tread carefully.

She remained warily silent, watching as he rolled over and sat up, expecting him to lash out at her, but he didn't. Instead his unsettled gaze fell away from her and became unfocused. Cautiously waiting for a few more minutes, she again tried approaching him, relaxing a bit and releasing the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding when he made no move to further reject her ministrations.

After a closer scrutiny, she concluded that the wound only needed to be cleaned, since it had begun to close up which meant that his body was again resuming its normal functionality of rapid regenerative capability.

"What happened?" She finally dared to ask in a quiet voice as she doused the gauze with antiseptic.

"Another beast with a black mitama," he replied laconically.

Midori momentarily ceased her actions and looked into his face, wondering how he could seem so detached about it. "You mean like at the iwatto, the creature with the black mitama?"

Murakumo's eyes flitted towards her, but they still had a vacant look in them as if he wasn't really seeing her. "Yes. A new enemy," he muttered absently, speaking his thoughts aloud, and when he failed to add anything further, Midori bent and resumed her task of gently cleaning his arm.

But she halted again a few seconds later; this time because his hand came up and clamped around her wrist preventing her from moving. She turned her face towards his and her brown eyes locked with his grey ones. They had lost their vacant look and were now sharply focused on her.

"Why do you do this?" he demanded roughly, pulling her hand away from his arm but not letting go of it.

Midori opened her mouth, and growing uncomfortable beneath his piercing gaze, she let her eyes slide to the piece of blood smeared gauze in her hand that remained suspended between them as she tried to think of a reply.

Raising her shoulders in a fidgeting motion, she remained speechless, her eyes flying back to his face in surprise when he added with quiet intensity, "Don't you know that I mean to destroy you?"

Her soft brown eyes widened as she looked searchingly into the steel grey of his, and after a moment she asked breathlessly, "Do you?"

He didn't answer for a long moment, his gaze wavering slightly before he replied in a flat tone of voice, "Yes."

His hesitation told Midori what she wanted to know, and her tongue flickered out, nervously moistening her bottom lip before she summoned up the courage to tell him, "I don't believe you."

Murakumo's eyes followed the motion of her tongue and she saw a flame of desire leap in his eyes before he ruthlessly extinguished it, saying in a steely voice, "You are such a foolish girl to doubt me. Once I have defeated this new enemy and regained my son from the Kushinada, then I will begin my plans for re-establishing my kingdom and the human race will be no more."

His threatening words slid over her, but Midori paid little heed to them as her attention was caught and held by what he had said about his son.

"Your son is with Momiji?" she asked in a startled voice and then winced when he shot from the bed, his fingers biting into her wrist as he dragged her closer to him and leaned down to glare at her.

"You know the Kushinada? How? How do you know her?" he hissed furiously, wondering what game Fate was playing now.

"Sh-she is my best friend," Midori stammered, twisting her wrist to try and free herself, and then grimacing and saying, "- Please let go! - you're hurting me!"

Murakumo looked away from her and abruptly released her. Finally free, Midori pulled her wrist to her body and massaged it, watching as Murakumo's face once again took on that brooding, absorbed look and wondered what was going through his mind.

"I – I don't understand," she mumbled in a puzzled sort of way after a moment, and then added, "why would Momiji have your son? What about his mother?"

At her words, something flickered across Murakumo's face, disappearing almost before she had seen it, and it was only after he spoke that Midori realized what it was.

"Hikaru is dead," he intoned in a voice devoid of emotion, his face just as wooden as his words as he turned his head to look down at her. "She died giving birth to my son."

Even though he stared impassively at her, his expression didn't fool her. She had seen his sorrow before he had had a chance to hide it. And Midori's eyes filled with grief for his loss.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her brown eyes bright with compassion as she gazed up at him so that Murakumo felt a strange sliding sensation in the middle of his chest.

Fighting it, he again looked away from her and said frostily, "Spare me your platitudes, human! I do not need them. She meant nothing to me."

Midori stared steadily at him for a moment or two and then sighed, saying nothing as she moved forward to finishing cleaning his arm.

After a few more minutes of prolonged silence, she softly whispered, "Keep telling yourself that long enough, your highness, and perhaps you can make yourself believe it."

His face registered no reaction to her words. It was almost as if he hadn't heard them, but Midori knew better for she felt the muscles beneath her fingers ripple as his body stiffened. But she was weary of fighting with him, and only wanted to leave. So she quickly finished what she came to do, his arm clean and neatly bandaged before she turned away.

"I truly am sorry," she told him softly, stopping by the door but not turning to look at him, her dark head bent in defeat, "not just for what happened to Hikaru, but also for what happened this morning – I know how - it repulsed you, and I just want you to know that - it won't happen again." Her voice had become unsteady, a note of pain creeping into it, and so she stopped speaking and drew a steadying breath. "I'm quite tired, so I think I'll wish you good night, Murakumo."

And then she fled the room, leaving him staring after her, his face still blank but his steel grey eyes seething with suppressed emotion. He had taken a step to go after her before he realized what he was doing and then he forced himself to stop. Turning around, he stretched out on the bed, still fully clothed and closed his eyes, his mind struggling to come to grips with everything that he had learned and trying at the same time to suppress those defiant feelings that made him want to focus on nothing but Midori.

His had been a brilliantly simple plan, he thought infuriated; a plot worthy of the leader of the Aragami. - So why was Fate making everything so damnably difficult?


	26. 25: The Sword of Billowing Clouds

25. Sword of Billowing Clouds

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"No!" Kaede cried vehemently. Her usually serene expression was nowhere to be found. Instead, she stood, her green eyes bright with resentment and her body stiff as she stared at Susano-oh's calm demeanor and saw instead the mocking grey eyes and perpetual smirk of Murakumo. "No!" she cried again. Her hands balled into fists and her jaw tightened as she turned away from her husband to stare off into the surrounding darkness, the hated image of the King of Aragami still etched clearly into her mind. "This is what you had planned all along, isn't it?" she accused in bitter accents, her anger unappeased even when she felt Susano-oh lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Would she ever understand the way her husband thought? She asked herself in aggravation. She had absolute faith in him, and she knew that he had only the best intentions. But the same couldn't' be said for Murakumo and she couldn't believe what her husband had asked her to do. As her frustration mounted, she felt Susano-oh's hand tighten on her shoulder as if he knew what she was thinking. He remained silent, but she could feel him pushing her to accept his will.

"I can't believe that you would ask this of me," she murmured, her bitterness now tempered with anguish. "I can't believe that you didn't tell me from the beginning that this is what you had planned to do."

Susano-oh slowly spun her around, but Kaede refused to look at him. He put his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face until she was staring into his dark eyes. As always, there was kindness in his gaze, and it irked her further that he remained so tolerant and patient. It somehow made it seem that he cared little for the way she felt – which she knew wasn't true. But sometimes, she just wished for things to be normal – sometimes, she thought wistfully; she wished she were still human. Realizing such feelings were disloyal and unworthy of the Princess Kushinada, Kaede stifled them and forgot them altogether when Susano-oh finally began to speak to her.

"Yes," he admitted, "this is what I had planned from the start," and when he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes asked softly, "would it have been any different if I had told you then instead of now?" and when she didn't answer, he concluded, "I didn't think so."

"How can you expect me to calmly accept him? - He is the child of Orochi!" she cried in defiant reaction to his judgment, "He carries Orochi's souls, and he allowed Orochi to possess him so that he might destroy you! He would have destroyed me as well!" Kaede railed getting angrier when the expression on his face still didn't change, "My lord, how can you be willing to trust him when all he wishes is for an end to the human race!"

"But Kusanagi is also the child of Orochi," Susano-oh pointed out, sidestepping her question for the moment, "and he too carries the souls of the Great Dragon. He also sought to destroy us in the beginning. And yet you are willing to trust him, are you not?" he challenged and Kaede dropped her gaze away, her face turning pink.

"That's different," she mumbled defensively, "I have known Kusanagi all of my life. In my heart I know that he would never do anything to hurt me – but Murakumo is different."

"They are brothers, Kaede - born from opposite sides of the same blade, but brothers nonetheless. If you accept one, then you must accept the other," he softly chided.

"But, my lord, he will never change!" she persisted, her green eyes imploring him to relent in his decision.

"No, my sweet Kaede," Susano-oh soothed, his thumb coming up to brush against her lips in a silencing motion. "Murakumo was born from Orochi first, and his ties were much stronger than Kusanagi's. But now that the Orochi is dead, those ties have been severed. You must understand that he is fighting for the survival of his kingdom, only wishing to see if flourish. And he is letting Orochi's ageless hate guide him towards his goals. But you will see," Susano-oh assured her, "when he begins to understand, he will be as loyal as before. - You forget that we were the ones that betrayed him."

"I have forgotten nothing," Kaede assured him, the quiet thread of bitterness still running through her voice as she remembered Hikaru. "You may have faith in him, but I never will," she owed.

There was a moment of silence into which his next words fell.

"Are you then refusing to do as I have requested?" he asked her, staring, unblinking down into her face.

His face was calm as ever and Kaede longed to tell him yes; that she refused to do it. She wanted an end to Murakumo's part in this plot, not an extended role. Nothing good could come of it, she was sure. He was cold, prideful and ruthless and she feared for her sister, her father – and for Hikaru's child knowing that it was in his power to use the child to destroy them all should he choose to do so. How she wanted to tell Susano-oh that she wouldn't do it. The words trembled in her heart and on the tip of her tongue, but looking into her husband's patient and loving eyes, she couldn't. Instead, she heaved a sigh and her head dropped forward, her dark bangs falling forward against eyes that were closed in defeat.

"I cannot deny you," she breathed in sad acquiescence, her eyes remaining closed, "and I will do as you have asked. But I fear that Murakumo cannot be changed. He was cast in the mold of his father and he will only betray you further. And I am just –" she murmured desperately, trying to express her concern for him and the rest of her family, but stopping abruptly when she felt his lips brush against hers. Her stomach tightened in response to the softness of the caress, and her breath sputtered to a stop.

"The Aragami are a natural part of this world just as much as the humans. Not all are as Orochi and they have waited patiently for their deliverance, wanting only to stop the suffering of their earth with Murakumo as their leader. I cannot forsake him or his race, Kaede, and I cannot believe that you would ask me to do so. They deserve my protection just as the humans do," he whispered into her thoughts as he deepened the embrace, and Kaede was enveloped in his warmth, his spirit mingling with hers, touching her and offering her reassurance. Then he broke the kiss, but didn't let go of her and whispered aloud, "Have faith in me, little one. I will not fail to protect those that you are worried about."

Kaede felt a surge of emotion rush through her at his words, spoken in his beautifully melodic voice that he seldom used – and only when he wished to express a deep emotion or make a solemn promise. She adored his voice, adored everything about him and Kaede pressed deeper into his embrace and whispered, "You have never failed me. You never will. It is I who have failed you, doubting when I should not." His hand came up and touched the back of her head, running softly down the silken midnight strands.

"You have not failed me little one," he responded in his lyrical voice, "your love has brought us full circle and given us the opportunity to bring the children of the earth together."

"I love you, my lord," she whispered against his chest and felt him squeeze her tighter before he responded with his own whisper.

"And I love you, Kaede of my heart."

Kaede appeared, swiftly, silently in the dimly lit room, looking down at the somnolent figure of the man she distrusted so much, and her hostility manifested in a banked fire within her green eyes. How she wished that she could end it here. Take swift and divine justice for Hikaru and end any plans that Susano-oh might have for this accursed being. But she couldn't. Her love for her husband forbid such an action and by her very nature, such an action was reprehensible. But still, it was no less than what he deserved.

Pushing her thoughts aside, she closed her eyes, and tried to free herself from her anger, knowing that such emotions wounded no one but her. Bowing her head, she took a deep breath and thought only of Susano-oh and slowly the turbulent feelings fell away leaving only peace and a sense of purpose. Her eyes were once again clear and serene when she opened them, and when she again looked down, she was able to keep her negative feelings from intruding; concentrating instead on what she had been sent here to do.

Slowly, she raised her hand and positioned it over Murakumo's chest, finding his weakness and using her strength to repair what damaged remained there. Then, after a slight hesitation, she moved her hand upwards until it was over his face. Still not touching him, she struggled to finish what she had to do. Holding out her index finger, she gently placed it in the middle of his forehead and closed her eyes, seeking to enter his thoughts. As she became more aware of his mind, she faded from the room and slipped into the shadows where she waited for him, her control over her emotions beginning to slip.

Murakumo felt a rush of warmth within his chest. His mitama. Something was happening to his mitama. The sensation faded and then he heard someone calling to him; a familiar, hated voice, pulling him into a darkness beyond slumber. Murakumo followed the sound until he saw her standing before him in long flowing robes of white, her face devoid of all expression, save for her eyes. Their verdant depths seethed with restlessness as she stared at him.

Kaede, the Kushinada.

She was as he remembered her, graceful of form and beautiful of face and Murakumo's countenance stiffened as he gazed at her, his anger and hatred towards her pulsing through him in waves. "Why have you called to me, Kaede, the Betrayer?" he demanded, and then looking around at the surrounding darkness. "Where is this place?"

Kaede ignored his words, instead choosing to turn on her heel and disappear into the darkness. After a moment or two her voice echoed back to him.

"You know the path that lies behind you. Return and learn nothing. But follow me and I will lead you to a greater knowledge – if you're strong enough to accept it." Her voice told him, and then growing fainter, "The choice is yours to make, Murakumo."

Murakumo turned and looked behind him. Seeing a rectangle of light, he approached it and looked down. Below, his body remained in quiet slumber, his mind freed from its physical restraints. Return and learn nothing, she had told him. But what could she possibly show him that he needed to know? The cynical side of him asked.

A greater knowledge; perhaps the eternal knowledge of a god. that rebellious voice supplied. Murakumo's grey eyes reluctantly swung back over his shoulder but were unable to penetrate through the unending darkness and he once more faced the window of light. It wasn't a hard choice to make really, he thought, his lips quirking derisively as he turned and took a step forward into the unknown.

A greater knowledge, eh? he thought, the smirk becoming more defined. Perhaps this knowledge would help him to reclaim his kingdom, though he somehow doubted it. He didn't trust the Princess Kushinada any more now than he had three years ago when he had learned that his race had been nothing more than a tool for her and Susano-oh.

So what was his reason for being here? that rebellious voice asked him. Curiosity: that was the reason, he assured himself.

It certainly wasn't because he believed that he would learn any mind shattering revelation. Just what exactly was the Princess Kushinada up to? - She knew about his son, so perhaps, it had something to do with him - or perhaps this was simply some ruse on her part to try to do away with him, betray him once again like she had before? Reflecting deeply upon the past, Murakumo walked for some minutes without encountering anyone or anything, and it took him a few extra moments more than it normally would have for him to realize that the engulfing blackness wasn't quite as black as before, his attention abruptly snapping back to the present when he felt a change in the atmosphere that was reciprocated in his blue souls as they began to glow.

Murakumo came to a slow halt as he heard an ominous rumble of thunder, and he looked around. He was standing on an unending ocean, his feet resting on its choppy, grey surface but remaining dry. The air was heavy and humid and seemed to resonate around him, filled with boundless energy, his souls pulsating with it, and above him, storm clouds were forming, scudding across the sky in a rapid procession of movement. A world of water; clouds and ocean, the silence of this strange world broken only by the rumble of thunder and the sound of the wind as it gusted past his ears, blowing his raven locks off of his shoulders and away from his high, pale cheekbones, sending it flying outwards behind him in long waves.

Murakumo's grey eyes narrowed and he scanned the horizons, searching for the white robed figure of Kaede. She was nowhere to be found and he was left alone on this infinite ocean of grey. Where had she gone? And where was he? Was this a trap of some sort?

"- The Sword of Billowing Clouds… " a deep male voice greeted him, resonating within his thoughts, "Welcome to the world of your namesake, Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi."

Murakumo's eyes widened in surprise by the internal sound and feel of it, and he scrutinized the horizon once more looking for the unknown man who spoke to him. "You look to the future seeking the answer, but turn and address your past, for that is where you will find me"

Murakumo spun around and his surprised eyes were joined by his mouth, which dropped open in incredulity upon spying the robed figure of Lord Susano-oh standing a few feet behind him with Kaede standing quietly by his side.

"What is the meaning of this?" Murakumo demanded harshly, looking not at Susano-oh but Kaede.

She said nothing, only returned his gaze steadily, until Susano-oh addressed her.

"Leave us, my Kaede," he told her softly.

Kaede's green eyes were torn from Murakumo then, her lips parted in surprise as she stared up at her husband's handsome profile. 'But –" she began to protest.

Susano-oh looked down at her then, his dark eyes calm and serene and he gave her a reassuring smile. "I will come for you. But for now, I would speak with Murakumo alone."

"You mean there is something that you wish to keep hidden from me," she communicated silently, her green eyes full of hurt when he did not answer but looked away from her, focusing again on Murakumo.

"I am sorry, but it is for the best," he told her after a moment before she abruptly turned her shoulder away from him, her feeling of rejections expressed in the bow of her head and the tight clench of her fists.

Feeling deeply disturbed, she walked away, stepping back into the darkness from which Murakumo had traveled, and Susano-oh waited for her disappearance before he again addressed the dark-headed Lord of Aragami.

Murakumo said nothing as Kaede made her exit. His countenance, dark and sullen, he waited for Suasno-oh to make the first move. The minute that Kaede had disappeared, the air vibrated with a low thrumming sound and Susano-oh's body emitted long rays of light, the humming sound swirling around him, spiraling as the intensity of the light grew, ending abruptly at its apex. After it was gone, Susano-oh had changed, the mitama, normally centered in the middle of his forehead, now held in the palm of his hand. He started towards Murakumo with purposeful strides, a grim look on his face, while Murakumo dubiously watched him advance.

He stopped in front of Murakumo and with his empty hand he reached up and ripped aside his robes, baring his chest. With surprising speed, his hand shot out and gripped Murakumo's in a strong grip, the blade in the Aragami's hand becoming unsheathed against his will.

In shock Murakumo tried to pull back, confusion standing out starkly in his grey eyes. But the Storm God's grip was too strong and he was forced to watch as Susano-oh slowly extended Murakumo's arm until the tip of his blade was pressed so tightly against the god's chest that a bead of green blood ran free, tracing a jagged path down his chest and torso, disappearing beneath the white folds of his open robe.

"What the hell are you doing?" Murakumo asked in a strained voice, struggling in futility to pull his arm free from the god's vice-like grip.

"If it is vengeance you seek, you are now in a position to take it," Susano-oh told him, his lips set grimly as he spoke the words aloud, and he gave a merciless tug against Murakumo's arm. Unable to hold his arm back against the strain, Murakumo watched, aghast as more of the god's blood ran free. "The blood you see is no illusion," Susano-oh told him as more streams of blood joined the first, a trace of pain in his normally tranquil eyes as the tip of the blade scraped a gouge of flesh from his chest. "I have set aside my immortality," he informed the still struggling Murakumo, holding the mitama up in front of the Aragami lord's eyes before continuing, "to offer you the opportunity to finish what you started in Tokyo three years ago."

Susano-oh gave another violent tug, and despite Murakumo's efforts to the contrary, more blood was sent rushing free. Baring his teeth in a feral grimace, Murakumo reached out with his other hand and braced it against the Storm God's shoulder, using it as leverage to try and pull himself free.

"What kind of game are you playing at?" Murakumo grunted, his arm shaking with the effort to try and push away. He was unsuccessful and Susanoh effortlessly held his arm in place.

"It isn't a game, merely an opportunity - Why do you struggle against it?" Susano-oh challenged softly, "Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this why you allowed Orochi the use of your body? So that the Great Dragon might slay the god who had forsaken your people?"

Murakumo said nothing, his face tensed and his jaw clenched with the effort to keep his blade from further penetrating Susano-oh's chest. Then suddenly Susano-oh let go and Murakumo staggered backwards before regaining his balance. Susano-oh watched him, his chest heaving from physical strain and emotion, his eyes wild with confusion and resentment, a strand of raven hair falling across his face and obscuring one of his eyes.

Bent slightly at the waist, Murakumo took a few moments to regulate his breathing and then, standing straight, slowly stepped towards the waiting god. His blade was still drawn but aimed at the ground and his eyes swept searchingly across Susano-oh's face, looking for answers to questions that he didn't even know how to express. After a moment, he managed to suppress his confusion and let his cold mask slide into place once more. Then, of his own volition he raised his blade and pointed it at Susano-oh's chest.

"Why have you brought me here!" he demanded. Susano-oh said nothing and Murakumo ground out, "Tell me, damn you!"

"Always on your terms, eh Murakumo?" Susano-oh murmured, looking at the blade tipped against his chest. "So much like your brother."

"What the hell are you talking about? I have no brother!" Murakumo growled, his eyes flickering briefly away from the Storm God as he felt the world around him slide away, blurring and becoming brighter until they were standing in a high, green field of grass that bent and swayed upon the eddies of air drifting around them.

"What the hell is this?" Murakumo snapped, the confusion back in his eyes, unaware that he had let his blade drop away from Susano-oh's chest so that it was once again uselessly hanging down by his side.

"The other side of your nature – and that of your brother, the Grasscutter, Kusanagi," Susano-oh informed him calmly.

"The hell you say!" Murakumo snarled, "Kusanagi is no brother of mine!"

"But he is," Susano-oh disagreed, "Born of the same blade and of the same father, Orochi."

"There is no way such an imperfect soul could claim ties with me - He is a pathetic human, and I am – Aragami!" Murakumo argued, and realizing that his blade had fallen, yanked it back up into position against Susano-oh's chest. "This is just more of your trickery and lies!" he accused.

"Then end it now," Susano-oh replied and again grabbed the blade, applying pressure.

Again Murakumo was forced to pull back, but still unable to break free, the muscles in his forearm again trembling from strain. Susano-oh might have shed his immortality for the moment, but his strength was still incredible.

"Let go of me, damn you!" Murakumo's mouth twisted in bitterness.

"Isn't this what you want?" the god repeated the question calmly, with not even the slightest hint of a taunt in his voice. "I'm giving you the opportunity, Murakumo. Take it now, or forever lose it."

Murakumo didn't say anything, his fiery grey eyes locked with the intense dark ones of Susano-oh and he continued to fight against the pressure that was being applied to his arm. He could feel his strength beginning to wan and knew that he would not be able to hold back much longer. With a growl of frustration, he pulled even harder but to no avail.

"Let go, damn you! Let go NOW!" He hissed.

Susano-oh continued staring into his eyes for a split second longer and then said softly, "Acknowledge what you are giving up and I will let go."

"I acknowledge nothing!" Murakumo cried in frustration and watched as the tip of his blade again sent a shower of blood down Susano-oh's chest.

"I cannot release you until you surrender your vengeance against me. If you cannot surrender it, then exercise it and be done with it!" Susano-oh commanded.

"Why?" Murakumo hissed again, "why are you doing this?"

"Surrender, Murakumo or finish it now," Susano-oh told him relentlessly.

Murakumo struggled a few minutes more, a trickle of sweat running down his temple and across his jaw. "All right!" he shouted the words in reluctant acquiescence, "I surrender my vengeance against you! Now let go!"

Immediately Susano-oh turned him loose and watched Murakumo's body sag in defeat, his eyes closed and his head falling forward so that his hair hung in his eyes. Still saying nothing, Susano-oh held up the hand still clutching his mitama. He turned it palm up, uncurling his fingers and watched as it rose in the air and begin to glow brightly. The same loud vibrating noise as before began to thrum around them and Murakumo opened his eyes at the sound, seeing briefly the brightly glowing mitama before the glare became too bright and he was forced to close his eyes until the humming stopped.

The mitama had once attained its rightful place upon Susano-oh's forehead, Murakumo noted, seething with humiliation because he had been unable to summon the courage to seek the retaliation that he had dreamed of for so long and still reeling from the fact that Susano-oh had openly offered him the chance.

"Just as noble as I would expect the King of Aragami to be – unwilling to end the life of their guardian deity, despite your feelings of betrayal," Susano-oh murmured, once again forgoing the use of spoken language to speak into Murakumo's mind.

Murakumo gritted his teeth in frustration and looked away, remaining silent, but it seemed that Susano-oh hadn't really expected a reply for he continued speaking.

"Always the loyal servant, Ama no Murakumo no Tsurugi - first to Orochi, your father, and then your god, whom you felt betrayed you – but most of all to your race. They have always come first, have they not?"

Susano-oh slowly approached Murakumo, who kept his eyes averted and his face stiff with hostility, feeling the steady gaze of the Storm God burning a hole through him.

"They still come first, even before your son – a child who is half human and half Aragami. Will you slay your son to regain your kingdom, Murakumo?" Susano-oh inquired ever so softly and watched him try to hide the flinch that he felt at Susano-oh's words.

Still he said nothing, but his eyes whipped up at the god's next words. "The kingdom you envision will never be."

"You will not stop me!" Murakumo vowed, his eyes burning with fury.

"No," Susano-oh agreed, "I will not stop you. No one will have to stop you when you come to understand the truth."

"And what truth is that?" Murakumo sneered, "the truth of a traitorous god? One who sacrificed the Kingdom of the Roots for a world of Humans?"

"The only sacrifice that need have been made was on the part of the Kushinada, Momiji. She was the only sacrifice that I intended, and even then, it was not a choice I willingly made," Susano-oh chided softly, "Do not blame me for Orochi's grievous errors in judgment. You have let his hatred for me and the human race blind you to any truth other than what he chose to show you."

"And I suppose you expect me to believe that yours is the ultimate truth," Murakumo lashed out spitefully.

"No," Susano-oh remarked, "I do not. I expect you to open your eyes and find the truth for yourself. Already you have begun to doubt what you know. I see it in your heart."

"What do you mean?" Murakumo demanded.

"The girl, Midori – the human. She has shown you a facet of the human race that you did not even believe existed – and yet you deny what you see, what you feel, bitterly hanging on to the 'truth' that Orochi taught you – that all humans are destructive, corrupt creatures - denying steadfastly what you have experienced first hand, the sacrifice and kindness of another on your behalf – asking for nothing, expecting nothing in return. This is what you refuse to reconcile as a human trait in your heart. Your kingdom will fall if you persist in your foolish pride, Murakumo. As it is, the kingdom you have dreamt of for so long – the kingdom that Orochi made you believe in - will never come to pass. It was ever nothing more than a fanciful Kingdom of Dreams."

"I don't believe you!" Murakumo railed, raising his fist in anger.

"Believe it not, and your race will perish," Susano-oh warned, his dark eyes boring into Murakumo's furious grey ones. "Let go of the past and look to your son, Murakumo. He is the hope for the continuation of all Aragami. If you put aside your hatred and come to accept this then you will see that the road for the future is the union between humans and the natural world of the Aragami. Then and only then will you be able to save your kingdom."

"What the hell do you mean?" Murakumo hissed.

"You know exactly what I mean," Susano-oh responded quietly, "the emotions you feel for Midori have already shown you the way, despite your efforts to eschew them. Deny it now, but it will become ever clearer as you face your new enemy. For they threaten not only the humans, but your race as well. They are strong, Murakumo; a race of demons known as the Tengugaki and they are after your son as a means of escaping from the Underworld to feed on the energy of human souls and the souls of the Aragami."

"Why would they want my son?" Murakumo asked, startled and feeling suddenly apprehensive.

"For the very same reason that you sought to conceive him in the first place; invincibility. The Tengugaki use the empty souls of the Aragami that their Lord has devoured to come to the surface. Their only vulnerability right now is the Kushinada. If their lord should rise to the Overworld, the humans would surely offer her as a sacrifice to stop them, and the Tengugaki would once again be trapped within their world of shadows. But if their Lord devoured the souls of a hybrid who is part human, part Aragami – your son – then they would become invulnerable; and even if she were to be sacrificed, the blood of the Kushinada could not stop them."

Susano-oh stopped speaking and a silence fell between them. Susano-oh watched Murakumo's guarded expression and knew that the Aragami lord was reeling in confusion, uncertain of what to believe any more.

"I have asked the Kushinada to guard your son which means that your brother guards him as well. They do not understand the significance of his birth, yet, thinking that he is only to be kept safe from the Tengugaki. But in time, I believe they will begin to see the truth in him that I now revealing to you – the unification of human and Aragami kingdoms. Already they are moving closer together and their coupling will yield the birth of even more Aragami souls into this world giving rise to the birth of a new kingdom… - The kingdom that you dreamed about – a world of nothing but Aragami - will never be, Murakumo, but your kingdom can still flourish if you choose to unite with the humans. Your new kingdom already exists in the form or your child and will continue to unfold with the children of your brother and the children of your son.

"Aragami souls and the soul of a human mingling together in harmony – this is the kingdom that you should strive for, one soul no greater than the other - For this is ultimately the only way for the Aragami _and _the humans to survive. For one race without the other will cause both to ultimately perish."

"And… what if…" Murakumo began hesitantly, "what if I choose to believe you. What guarantee do I have that you are not just lying to me, once again planning to sacrifice the Aragami to try and save the humans?"

"You feel I betrayed you," Susano-oh said, "and your feelings are, in truth, correct. But despite my betrayal I have never forsaken you." Murakumo expression was a mixture of skepticism and perplexity and so Susano-oh added, "Kusanagi's resurrection came as an effort to ensure that your kingdom would flourish should your plan fail – " there was a flash of surprise on Murakumo's face at Susano-oh's words and he acknowledged, "yes, Murakumo. I knew of Hikaru. - I knew of your plan from the very beginning."

"If you knew… ? Then, why did you not stop me?" Murakumo wondered aloud, bemused.

"Because, even though it was meant it as an act of defiance against your god, I knew it to be a means of ensuring the continuation of your species. – I have never forsaken you," Susano-oh reiterated firmly and for the first time, Murakumo began to wonder if he was telling the truth.

About everything.

"Trust not just my words, Murakumo, but what you begin to perceive as real truth. You will come to know what is right if you focus not just on the past, but on the future as well," Susano-oh urged him, "Do not let hatred bind you to a misplaced loyalty. Think of what you are learning and what you are feeling at present; take it to heart and reflect upon it. - And then, when you know it to be right, to be just, act upon the truths that you have uncovered. These are the actions of a true king – the actions of the King of Aragami."

Murakumo opened his eyes with a start, the unpleasant and pungent aroma of sulfur filling his nostrils. Confused and disoriented, the image of Susano-oh seared into his mind, he had trouble focusing on the room around him.

"Susano-oh?" he mumbled and heard the startled sound of a feminine voice.

His eyes finally cleared and he focused on the slight form that had jumped backwards in surprise. It was Midori. Had Susano-oh been just a dream then?

"Oh," she exclaimed somewhat shakily, her face pale, "you're awake," she mumbled, apparently feeling the need to state the obvious.

Murakumo sat up, looking from her to the window. It was still dark outside and she looked weary to the bone.

"What are you doing here?" he wanted to know.

Midori bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the cotton gauze in her hand and feeling like a coward. She had been too wound up to sleep earlier, and so she had spent the last few hours hemming the trousers that she had purchased from him. And then, just as she was getting ready to finally lie down and go to sleep, a feeling of dread had settled in over her when she realized that she had forgotten to apply the solution she had made to Murakumo's mitama earlier in the day.

Not wanting to wait until morning, she had decided she should rectify her oversight immediately, hoping to be able to get it over with while he was sleeping so she wouldn't have to face his austere expression and his cold grey eyes. She should have known better. The smell of the stuff was enough to peel the paint from the walls, so there was little likelihood of him sleeping through having it applied. And besides that, she hadn't figured out how to get her hand down his shirt without waking him up anyway. So much for the coward's way out.

"You haven't had the solution applied to your mitama today, and I was worried that…" she trailed off and started backing up as he climbed to his feet and started towards her.

Murakumo watched as a look of apprehension flitted across her face, but he didn't slow his stride, continuing until he was standing close enough to reach out and take her arm, pulling her to a standstill. He felt the tension of her body beneath his fingers; her face remained level with his chin as she shied away from looking him in the face.

"It is late," he remarked softly, noting with a frown the dark smudges beneath her eyes. "Could it not have waited until the morning?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so," Midori mumbled lamely, "but I was… that is… I thought it would be better… I thought that perhaps it would be easier with you asleep," she blurted out, her cheeks reddening in misery.

"Are you trying to hide from me, Midori?" he asked her in a soft voice and when she didn't reply, he grabbed her chin and forced it upwards, looking into her soft velvet brown eyes.

"H-hide?" she stammered, a look of confusion on her face. "Wh- what do you mean?"

Murakumo stared at her a long moment, seeking the answers, trying to put aside his hatred and looking for the truth. It was easier to find than he had thought it would be.

He let her go and slowly stepped back, a look of shock on his face. "Never mind," he murmured and then added in a bemused sort of voice, "It can wait until morning. Go to bed, Midori."

Midori stood a moment longer, hesitating in uncertainty having never seen such a strange look on his face. Then, she turned and quietly left the room, and Murakumo watched her go, trying to absorb what he had learned.

This human cared.

For him.

Her enemy.

The revelation was shattering


	27. 26: Momiji's Four Letter Word

26. Momiiji's Four-Letter Word

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Giving up on sleep, Kusanagi heaved a deep sigh and opened his eyes. Reluctant to move, he stared at the darkened window, listening to the steady and even breathing of the girl nestled warmly against his back. How he would like to stay like this a little longer. But he knew he couldn't. Allowing himself a moment more, he finally rolled off the edge of the mattress and staggered around the bed to cross the room towards the door, his muscles unusually stiff from maintaining an uneasy balance on the edge of the bed for the last few hours. Stopping in the doorway, he arched his tired back in a lithe stretch, extending his arms over his head, the muscles on his chest flexing as he sought to shake the fatigue from his body.

What he needed was a shower, he thought, bringing his hands back down, one stopping on the way back to rub the bleariness from his eyes. Moving once again, he made a detour to the closet and grabbed a pair of faded jeans before heading back towards the door. But before he passed through it, he hesitated, turning to look back over his shoulder, his eyes seeking out the sleeping figure of Momiji.

A half-smile quirked his lips as he watched her. She was quite a vision. She had forgotten to braid her hair last night and he preferred it that way. Lying on her side, her chestnut hair spilled softly across her cheek and down the blankets, following the curve of her waist and thigh, one hand flung out in front of her, the other tucked beneath the cheek resting on the pillow. In sleep, her face looked younger than her nineteen years; almost childlike and she wore a serene expression: she was the epitome of innocence, pure and seraphic.

Kusanagi laughed softly to himself at that thought, a touch of irony twisting his lips, but his eyes were soft as he continued to stare at her. She might look like an angel lying there, but his current condition was proof that she was far from selfless when it came to sleeping arrangements, he thought. With one last chuckle, he finally turned away from her to make his way to the bathroom, but his thoughts still centered on her and her nocturnal passive-aggressive tendencies. Momiji was quite the insidious bed-sneak – and he wondered why, the few times that he had been in bed with her before, that he had never noticed it.

Kusanagi still hadn't figured that one out by the time he'd finished his shower, and could only surmise that perhaps it had been more of a subtle thing before. Or perhaps on those few occasions, he had just been too dead to the world to notice her domination of sleeping space.

But last night it had been impossible for him to ignore. She had all but shoved him into the floor, hogging everything from the surface of the mattress, to the sheets and blankets. And it had taken him a while to realize it was happening too, because it had been done a little at a time with small scoots here and there. Her little rear end had wriggled ever closer to him, moving him further and further towards the edge that separated him from the warm comfort of the mattress and the hard, cold wood of the floor. And she had been just as subtly ruthless with the sheets and blankets too - a little yank here and a little tug there, until she had eventually won virtually all of those as well.

Shaking his head, and giving up on trying to reason it out, Kusanagi turned out the bathroom light and slowly made his way down the darkened stairway to the kitchen. He was dressed only in his faded blue jeans, his hair dripping wetly onto the white towel draped around his bronzed neck and shoulders, and despite his shower he was still feeling a bit groggy from lack of sleep. Perhaps a quick cup of tea might help to wake him up before he finished dressing for his trip to Ise.

Flipping the light on inside the kitchen, he moved quietly towards the stove, idly using the end of the towel around his neck to rub at his greenish-black hair, making it stick out at odd, spiky angles all over his head. With a yawn, he paused in the task of drying his hair, letting the end of the towel drop back down against his shoulder as he grabbed the kettle off the stove and carried it over to the sink. As he reached for the faucet, his eyes slipped to the bottom of the sink and he stopped dead in his tracks, a crack of laughter escaping from his lips upon spying the heap of underwear lying there.

Momiji's underwear – abandoned in the heat of the moment and apparently forgotten as well; it was hard to believe that it had only been yesterday that he had carried out his little plot for revenge, for it seemed like much more time had passed than that. Still smiling, Kusanagi reached down and poked at the stiffly dried clump of fabric with a long finger, and an unexpectedly ingenious and wonderful idea occurred to him.

This could be the perfect opening he had been looking for. After all, there was nothing standing in his way anymore since he no longer had a vow to keep. So why not seize the moment? Suddenly wide awake, he swung around, and without filling the kettle, returned it to its place on the stove before going back over to the sink to gather up the now pathetically rigid underwear.

Hmm. Now to locate a place to put them where she wouldn't find them. Kusanagi rapidly went through all of his options and then, smiling at his own cleverness, he carried them upstairs. Safely hiding them away, he then crept towards his own room. Putting his still wetly spiked head around the door, the sharpness of his eyes cutting through the dimness of the room, he peered at the bed.

All was silent but he waited a moment before stealthily crossing to the closet to crouch down and take out his square leather box of pictures, removing from it the flimsy, white fabric that he had placed there for safe keeping. Pulling himself to a standing position, he directed one more cursory glance at the bed before he once again stole from the room, heading, once again, for Momiji's bedroom. His intent was to plant the bait in a not so obvious place, but not in such an inconspicuous place either, so that she wouldn't be able to find it.

After a few attempts, he thought he finally hit upon the perfect solution, which was to put them back in the exact same place he had found them – wedged in the back of her bottom drawer. Finally satisfied, he retraced his steps back to his room, where only one task remained: figuring out what to do with the underwear currently lying on the floor. He had to make sure that she found the bait instead of settling for wearing those, and he didn't want to leave anything to chance. But he wasn't at all certain as to how to achieve that certainty without arousing her suspicions. As he stood pondering the matter from the doorway, his eyes wandered back to where Momiji lay and he found his thoughts neatly sidetracked when he noticed that she remained unmoving in the exact position where he had left her.

Given her persistence of unconscious motion, Kusanagi could hardly believe that while he was gone she hadn't "wandered" back to the middle of the bed. She had had plenty of time to do so; in fact, he had more than expected her to. But no, even now, she was on "his side of the bed" - the middle ground having been forsaken for the exact spot where he would have liked to have remained for several more hours - her head nestled comfortably against his pillow, sleeping quietly.

Perhaps if he had just switched sides he might have managed to get a couple of hours of decent sleep, he thought as his eyes drifted to "her side of the bed". That might have worked, for her side had grown stone cold long ago – even her pillow was indentation-less, since her head had spent most of the night crawling its way to take over his.

Too bad he hadn't thought of that before, he thought sheepishly. But even if he had, he still probably wouldn't have moved, he reflected ironically, for he had enjoyed it far too much having her body pressed up against his back. She was warm, and soft, and so curvaceously feminine – oh yes, he could definitely get used to her being in his bed. His lips curled into a sensual smile at the realization that not only could he get used to it, but he was also already addicted to it.

There were just one or two things that were missing – or maybe that should be, there were one or two things that _should _be missing and currently weren't - that would make another night like last night absolutely perfect. But all that would be remedied quite soon… Kusanagi's eyes flitted back to Momiji's abandoned underwear, and his smile took on a slightly perverted twist as he pictured the little slip of silk being combined with the rest of his and her nighttime apparel.

Ah, he breathed deeply to himself, his body already thrumming with anticipation. His acceptance of his feelings made him feel… liberated; finally able to pursue what he wanted. And after waiting for three long years, he found that he barely had the patience to wait just a few more hours for it too. Kusanagi laughed quietly to himself at the irony of it, stifling the sound almost immediately when he heard what sounded like a murmured coo and the rustling of blankets. Instantly, his eyes flew from the underwear to Momiji and he realized that he only had a few more seconds before she was fully awake. Hurriedly he walked over to the panties lying on the floor and stared, still not certain of what to do with them.

But it was too late to do anything now, he decided, his gaze pivoting back to Momiji, watching her face scrunch up as she stretched. He forgot about the underwear dilemma for the present to focus his attention on her instead, telling himself that he would come up with something. Pulling the towel from around his neck, he stepped over to the bed, casually tossing it to the end before easing his knees onto the mattress and leaning forward, his stomach and chest stretched out so that he was propped up on his elbows just if front of her face, letting his gaze wander affectionately over her, so very thankful that he no longer had to fight what he felt for her. Her eyes were still closed, but the light stain of color across her cheeks and the little grunting noises she made as she continued to stretch told him that they would be peeking open any minute now. His mouth curled into a slight smile as he watched her, waiting.

Momiji took a deep breath and with a less than tuneful 'hum' let it out. Her brow crinkled in a worried frown as she cracked her sleepy eyes open and she couldn't help the feeling that something was out of place. Before she could further analyze it, it was brushed to the side, replaced by a whimsical smile that melded into a dreamy expression on her face as she spied Kusanagi propped up next to her.

She had never seen his hair, wet or dry, in such disarray before. It was practically standing up and cheering on top of his head and she thought with the soft smile currently ensconced across his features, that this was perhaps the cutest she had ever seen him look.

"Kusanagi, you look… like a giant pineapple," she teased in a sleepy voice, reaching out and smoothing down the spiky looking strands of hair on the side of his head, shy color staining her cheeks a deeper pink when he captured her hand with his. A possessive look brightened his eyes as he softly pressed it against the freshly shaven side of his face, letting her fingers trail down his jaw beneath his before letting it go and addressing her.

"Good morning, Princess, I hope your feet are _feeling _better this morning," he murmured, a lazy smile stretching across his lips, his light, teasing tone at odds with the intense look in his eyes.

Momiji gave him a searching look and her smile faded somewhat at his words. She felt her uneasiness quickly return as she began to vaguely recollect how numb her feet had been the night before, and flashes of hazy images that seemed more fantasy than real began to play themselves within her mind – drinking hot sake, tripping over her benumbed feet, a passionate kiss between her and Kusanagi in her bedroom, tripping over her own feet some more, and then… sharing more than a passionate kiss with Kusanagi….

I love you, Kusanagi. The words drifted up from the depths of her mind and set off a panic alarm.

Dear god, she hadn't really told him that, had she? she thought frantically. Please, let it be just a dream! But then more images rushed in on her and her rash confession was blown away by the memory of their intensity. Images of her and Kusanagi, their bodies intertwined on the bed - soul consuming kisses and deep caresses that had left no room for thought, nor any extra breath for protest, and then – oh lord…. What had happened then?

She couldn't remember!! And Momiji's blood turned to ice in her veins when she suddenly realized that she was missing just more than her memory. With a horrified gasp, she sat bolt upright, her green eyes as wide as Kusanagi had ever seen them and her panic-stricken gaze swung wildly from him to her own body, down to her waist where her underwear should be but wasn't.

Kusanagi took one look at her frantic expression and the teasing smile was wiped from his face. Something must be wrong, he thought and one word popped into his head - Tengugaki.

"What's the matter?" he asked sharply, abruptly sitting up next to her.

"Oh, my gosh…what?" she asked her gaze flitting nervously around, not looking at him, "where are my panties? What happened to my panties?" She was almost in a frenzy now.

Kusanagi remained silent for a moment. Then there was a slight noise, almost like a choking sound, and Momiji reluctantly brought her green eyes back to him when her efforts to locate her missing panties somewhere on the bed failed to bear results. She noticed that he was giving her a swiftly calculating look, his stiff posture once again relaxed and Momiji felt a tendril of suspicion curl through her when she saw the hint of a smile that played around his mouth. He was up to something, but what?

"They're in the exact same place as they were last night, Princess. It's not like they have the ability to get up and move around on their own," he told her in a dry voice.

His reply was calculated to irk her and it did just that. Momiji's mouth tightened in irritation, but she was still too worried about her dislocated intimate apparel to give vent to it.

"No," she replied in a calm voice that in no way hid the riotous emotions beneath the surface, "I am _quite _certain that last night, they were on my body – which is exactly where they are supposed to be - and now - _they're not_!"

"What a shame that's the only thing missing," he muttered under his breath, his gaze flickering down to her trim waist buried beneath the covers, wishing that he had the time necessary to do a bit of exploration. But he didn't. He should already be on his way to Ise, but he couldn't resist the temptation to stay just a while. Just long enough to tease Momiji a bit.

"What did you say?" Momiji asked warily as Kusanagi's eyes slid downwards and stayed there.

"Not a thing," he replied in a louder voice, his cat-like eyes finally snapping back up to her face, a completely innocuous expression that Momiji found difficult to trust pinned in place. It made her chestnut brows pull together over her eyes, which in turn made Kusanagi give her a look that said, 'why are you looking at _me_ like that? I haven't done anything!'

Ignoring the look, Momiji stared at him a moment longer, which he steadily met and her words of the night before pounded through her head: _I love you, Kusanagi. _Her stomach twisted in panicked reaction to them. She hurriedly dropped her gaze from his and missed the puzzled look on Kusanagi's face at the shadow he had seen flit through her eyes before she did so.

It hadn't been a dream, she thought. There was no way it could have been. And even though she had revealed her feelings to him, he hadn't verbally responded to her – But, she thought, trying to give herself a bit of hope, hadn't he kissed her after that? She was almost certain that he had, and then… and then…

Oh crap – what if they had…?

And she couldn't remember it?

Surely not?

The gods wouldn't be that cruel would they?

But if she and Kusanagi hadn't…. then why was her underwear missing? Why couldn't she _remember_!? she lamented desperately. The sun had barely risen and already Momiji felt the beginnings of a pounding headache setting in as she desperately tried to recall the exact events of the night before. Nervous energy began to build and she wanted to get up and pace the floor – but not without her underwear. She just felt too – exposed without them.

So she lifted her chin and turned to study Kusanagi who sat, his lids half lowered over his eyes to hide what he was thinking and dredged up the courage to play with fire and pursue the topic.

"Well if they are not where they're supposed to be, then where are they?" She queried, her hands tensely clenching the sheet covering her lap, unable to keep a thread of the unease she was feeling from creeping into her voice.

"Who said they weren't where they were supposed to be?" he challenged smoothly and then smiled when her eyes began to sparkle with temper and she made a noise of frustration.

"Kusanagi! This is - " she ground out and was about to add the word 'serious', but forgot to, letting go of the sheet in surprise instead, as he placed his fingers on the mattress next to her hip and leaned towards her, his face coming closer and closer to hers.

"You really don't remember, do you, Princess?" he asked softly. The soft light in his eyes was mesmerizing as he leaned ever nearer, and Momiji watched him, her green eyes flitting over his handsome features and settling on his sensuously curved mouth when he whispered, "Since you can't seem to remember, perhaps we can do a little something to help jog your memory."

Jog her memory? Is that what he was trying to do?

Didn't he realize that when he got close, she might as well not even have a brain, since the feelings he stirred within her short-circuited it? she thought wryly. And then just as she had foreseen, all brain activity immediately ceased, as she realized that he was going to kiss her and her instincts took over, craving the addicting heat that she felt in his touch. Momiji's lips parted in anticipation and her breathing began to flutter restlessly in her throat as he rapidly closed the remaining distance between them and claimed her lips in a hungry kiss.

She closed her eyes as she felt him slide his lips across hers, his tongue flickering out to tease against their softness before trailing away to move across her cheek and jaw, his hands coming up to tangle in the long tresses of her hair, pulling her closer to his chest as he nuzzled against her neck. Far beyond any hope of rational thought now, Momiji brought her hands up and gripped the bare muscles of his shoulders, the hunger deep inside her body beginning to increase. Her head fell back and she drew in a shuddering breath as his slid his open mouth along her neck, his teeth gently nipping the sensitive skin there while he slowly moved upwards towards the delicate shell of her ear.

"So, Princess," he breathed, his voice low and husky against her ear as he continued to nuzzle her, "does this remind you of anything?"

"Ungh," she moaned, trying to force herself to think and failing completely. "I – don't – think – so," she moaned, amazed at herself for managing to reply in something other than unintelligible gibberish.

At her words, Kusanagi laughed softly and quit nuzzling her. Then she felt his hands tightening in her hair, tugging so that her head was pulled in his direction as he eased away from her neck to aim a devastatingly sultry smile at her.

"Hmm, I think this calls for drastic measures then," he purred softly. "Perhaps if we delve a little deeper we might be able to shake some of those memories loose - and if not…" he let his voice trail off suggestively, his half-closed feline eyes gleaming with a predatory brightness.

And then he once again brought his lips against hers in a mind shattering kiss, this time sliding his tongue deeply into her mouth and letting it twine with hers as his hands left her hair to trail downwards around her back. He wrapped his arms securely around her and pulled her up against him so that she could feel the heat of his chest penetrating the thin cotton of her nightgown.

Momiji's own hands began to wander eagerly then, going from the smooth skin of his shoulders and running lightly down his sides and back until he freed his hands from around her and brought them around to capture her restive movements which were making the dangerous game he had engaged in even more precarious. He already didn't want to stop but he knew that he had to, for he had a trip to make, and her touch only inflamed him more.

It was time to bring this most enjoyable part of the game to a close, before things got completely out of hand. And so he reluctantly pulled away from her, giving one last nibble to her lips before he eased backwards and opened his eyes to look at her flushed and dreamy countenance.

"So, Princess," he intoned, his words causing her to open her eyes and look at him, "how was that?"

"That was…" Momiji breathed, "incredible –" she stopped speaking when he chuckled and brought his hands up to the sides of her face, briefly leaning his head forward against hers before letting her go again and sliding away from her, to the edge of the bed, his back to her.

"Thank you, but that's not what I meant," he told her over his shoulder in amusement, as he stood up and casually sauntered over to the dresser to pick up his comb. He began raking it through his spiky locks without even looking at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes, instead, riveted to Momiji who still sat in the middle of the bed, looking a bit befuddled.

"What did you mean then?" she asked her brain still trying to recover from his kiss.

"I meant did that help you to remember anything about last night," he laughed and turned to face her now, putting the comb back on the dresser and leaning against it to watch her.

Momiji looked away from him, feeling stupid for not realizing that was what he meant in the first place, and mumbled, "Oh. Well, I can't – you are – that was –" Momiji stopped, a look of pain crossing her face, feeling even dumber for babbling like an idiot. "- No," she finally managed, "it… didn't help me to remember what happened to my – " she stopped again, this time in acute embarrassment, and then hurriedly added, "it doesn't explain why I'm not wearing my underwear nor does it help me to remember where my underwear currently are."

"That's funny," Kusanagi told her with suppressed amusement, and crossed his arms in front of him, "I thought it explained all too plainly the reason you're not wearing your underwear," and when Momiji's mortified gaze shot to his face he gave her a lecherous grin and uncrossed one arm to point lazily to the floor and say, "and that's where your panties are," his eyes following her every movement as she rose on her knees and peered over the side of the bed. He watched her for a minute more, her body stiffening as he let his next words drop. "They're right where you abandoned them, Princess."

"Abandoned?" she asked, "what do you mean, abandoned?" A tremor of alarm ran through her at the sly look on his face. She took an immediate dislike to the turn in the direction of their conversation.

"You know," he sighed, the hint of regret in his tone belied by the wolfish smile on his face, "this would be _so_ much easier if only you could remember… but since you can't, perhaps it's best if we leave it at that –"

"What!? No!" Momiji desperately inserted, leaning in his direction, still on her knees. "I need to know!"

It was beginning to get lighter outside now, some of which was filtering into the room making it so that Kusanagi could once again trace the curves of Momiji's body through the thinness of her gown. His body's response was immediate, tightening uncomfortably as his eyes flitted downwards and threatened to remain fixated upon her breasts and the curve of her hips. But he clamped down on his desire and refused to give in to the temptation, reminding himself that now was not a good time…

Disappointment screamed through him and he sought to relieve it by telling himself that while he might not have time to indulge his body, he at least still had time enough to indulge his mind and finish teasing Momiji. Turning his thoughts back to her and seeing her intensely interest focused on him, he allowed a helpless expression to flit across his face.

"Are you sure that you want me to tell you?" he asked in feigned uncertainty, his eyebrows soaring over his eyes as he kept his gaze pinned steadily to her face.

Momiji took one look at his hesitant expression and her dread reached new heights. Her heart hammering heavily in her throat, she took a long swallow and thought. Did she really want to hear what had happened between them last night, knowing that besides the possibility of him telling her that they had slept together, he might also bring up the fact that she had told him that she loved him, while he had told her… nothing? Was finding out the current status of her virginity worth such a risk?

Yes! - No! Oh, lord, she didn't know!

Shutting out the conflicting voices beginning to clamor in the back of her mind, Momiji finally gave a little nod and waited with baited breath for Kusanagi to speak.

"You're absolutely _certain _–" he began to ask again, but was interrupted by her edgy outburst.

"Yes, Kusanagi!" she shouted at him, her need to know outstripping the remainder of her patience.

Kusanagi smiled at her reaction, which he hid from her by walking over to the closet to grab a clean shirt.

"All right then," he replied calmly, and then added in a considering way as he pulled a shirt from the closet, "Where to start… well, I guess I would have to say that… things were a bit – wild last night, to say the least –"

"Wild?" Momiji echoed, her voice rising in faint surprise.

"- You know, you really shouldn't drink, Princess," Kusanagi informed her over his shoulder in wry amusement as he slipped the black t-shirt over his head before turning back in her direction, "not only does it make the bottom of your feet go numb, but it apparently sends your sex drive spiraling out of control as well – "

"My…sex drive?" she squeaked, her green eyes staring at him like she was afraid he'd turned rabid.

By now, Kusanagi had almost forgotten his earlier physical disappointment, thoroughly enjoying the picture he was painting for her, and so he enthusiastically continued as if she had never said a word, his explanation becoming more outrageous by the minute. "Yes, your sex drive," he confirmed and at her blank look, clarified it by adding, "you know, your libido – your sexual appetite –"

"I know what a sex drive is, Kusanagi," she hastily interrupted him with a grimace, "I'm just not sure if –"

"Yes, I know," he cut in with a lecherous grin, his voice rising above hers before he added, "and you more than proved it last night too!"

"Wh- what?" she gasped weakly, crawling towards the edge of the bed on her knees, but stopping after a few inches when her gown was snagged beneath her, halting her movement. "Just what do you mean by that?" she asked him, an inkling of suspicion beginning to rise in the back of her mind when she saw his smile. Something about this just wasn't right, she thought. He was enjoying this _way_ too much!

"I simply mean, that you were so – er, incredibly… uninhibited… that you practically ripped your panties right off –" he informed her gleefully.

There was a moment of unbroken silence while Kusanagi awaited with great anticipation, Momiji's reaction. And when it came, he found it highly satisfying.

"I…did…_WHAT_!?" Momiji demanded, her mouth hanging open, beyond shocked, not sure if he was serious.

"Yes," Kusanagi nodded in affirmation, and then added a shade too idly, "that was my reaction as well. I hadn't expected you to do such a thing - that was why I was unable to stop you. – But after the panties, I realized that you weren't yourself and so I was able to keep you from ripping your gown off as well – "

"_WHAT_!?" she screeched in disbelief, still on her knees and yanking at the hem of her gown, trying to hobble forwards, almost making it to the edge before she had to stop again. She was beginning to suspect that he was lying because Momiji was pretty certain that she would NEVER do something like that –

"But that's when I knew you were serious," he inserted, the look on his face becoming a trifle smug.

"Serious? Serious about what?" Momiji asked sharply, her eyes glued to the suspect look on his face as he propped against the closet door, his arms once again folded across his chest, watching her struggle with her gown.

"About your proposition to me," he informed her and watched her jaw become unhinged once more.

"My proposition? What proposition!?" Momiji finally made it off the bed and slowly walked towards him.

She ignored her panties for now and eyed him with patent distrust, which quickly transformed into irritation when she saw the feline smile that inched across his face. Now she knew for certain that he was toying with her - the fat head! It was written all over his face – and, like the idiot that she was, she had almost fallen for it, too!

"I'm sure you don't need me to spell it out for you, Princess," he remarked dismissively, his eyes never leaving her face as she cautiously advanced towards him, a beautiful green fire beginning to kindle in her eyes.

"No," she contradicted in a quietly seething way, and then, curious as to how far he would go with his tale, waved her hand towards him and invited, "go ahead… spell it out for me. Just how exactly did I proposition you?"

Kusanagi gave her a considering look and knew that she was onto him, but he didn't care. This was far too entertaining to stop now, and so he gave her a sly grin and asked as she came to a stop in front of him, "Are you sure you want to know?"

"More than anything," she assured him fervently.

"Okay," he replied resolutely, "but don't say I didn't try to warn you."

"I'll keep it in mind," she muttered with a frown and waited impatiently for him to continue.

"You know… it's rather difficult to find the right words -" he began.

"I'm sure you'll manage," she muttered sourly as he continued speaking.

"- without sounding a bit crude, so I'll just come right out and say it, how's that?" and after a nod from her, blurted out, "you asked me to take you last night."

Momiji couldn't help it. Her body stiffened in shock, not quite believing that he would dare say such a thing and found herself repeating that four-letter word that seemed to constantly be on the tip of her tongue this morning. "_WHAT_!?" Shock and outrage mingled in her voice as she stared up into Kusanagi's mischievous face.

" – I couldn't believe it –" he went right on going, not bothering to hesitate even as she began speaking at the same time, no longer willing to sit quietly and listen to his outrageous explanation.

"There is _NO WAY_ –" she began passionately.

"You actually _threw_ yourself at me –" he continued with relish, his voice rising above her softer one.

"- that I– " Momiji cut in, refusing to let the strength of his voice overpower hers.

"- and you demanded that we have hot… steamy… _SEX_ –" he was thoroughly enjoying himself now, watching the furious color begin to spill into Momiji's face at his emphasis on the word 'sex".

"- would _EVER _say – " she declared emphatically, her temper flaring as she watched Kusanagi's smile become even bigger as he witnessed her embarrassment.

" – you know," he added for extra measure, as even her ears became red, "_WILD… JUNGLE…LOVE!_"

"- such COMPLETE and UTTER… CRAP!!!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, her chest heaving indignantly so that Kusanagi finally let his eyes slide downwards to glance hungrily at her before forcing himself to look away and back up at her face.

Kusanagi's chuckle was a bit strained and he gave her a crooked smile, "… So you're not willing to buy that, eh, Princess?"

"Kusanagi!" she gritted out between her teeth and took a step closer to him, her hands fisted by her sides, "I think – I'm going – to _KILL YOU_!"

She launched herself at him and he laughed. Before she could do any serious damage, however, Momiji found herself caught in his arms as they came up and encircled her, pulling her into a close embrace that immediately took all of the wind out of her sails. It was impossible for her to stay mad at him, she thought peevishly. Especially when he held her like this. Her cheek was pressed against the softness of his shirt and she heard his voice rumble in her ear as he brought a hand up to her hair and slowly ran it down it's silky length.

"Little idiot," he said softly, using his other hand to put a finger beneath her chin and lift it upward so that he could look into her eyes. "You don't remember anything, Momiji, because nothing happened last night."

"But what about my underwear – " she began and he interrupted her.

"That was entirely my fault," he told her with a wry twist to his lips, his thumb gently stroking against her cheek, "it should never have happened," and then when he saw the sudden stricken look in her eyes quickly added, "- but not for the reasons that your thinking. Momiji – " he stopped, feeling awkward, and then finally managed, "- about last night… we need to have a talk – "

Momiji's stomach clenched in knots, and she pulled away from him to look into his face. His expression told her nothing, so she turned away from him, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. Her eyes lit on the panties lying on the floor and she started towards them while he continued speaking in uncomfortable accents.

"But not right now. There is something that I need to do this morning. It shouldn't take me long," he told her slowly, an idea forming in his mind as he watched her move towards her underwear. He stepped in her direction then, carefully gauging her movements as he continued speaking. "I want you to wait for me here, and then when I get back – " he stopped speaking as she bent to retrieve the silk panties and closed in. His timing had to be just right. "Here," he offered helpfully, making his move, "let me get those for you."

Moving swiftly, he bumped into her rear end causing her to stumble forward, and then he reached down and yanked at the silk as hard as he could, knowing that they were caught under Momiji's foot. There was a sharp rending sound as he pulled them free and he watched Momiji straighten and spin around, a look of dismay on her face as she gazed at the panties he held in front of her, now torn apart.

Success! He thought exultantly doing his best to keep his face devoid of any expression.

"Oh, no!" Momiji groaned and took the silk from his fingers, looking at the irreparable damage done to fragile material.

"I'm sorry, Momiji," Kusanagi murmured, truly feeling a pang of remorse at the look on her face.

"No," she mumbled, "it's not your fault – I'm just so clumsy," she explained.

Kusanagi didn't say anything, but now he felt like a heel. He would make it up to her, he vowed to himself, but not now. Right now, he needed to be in Ise. He took a step towards her and called her name, drawing her attention back to him for the moment.

"It's getting late, and I need to go now, Momiji, but I want you to stay here," he reiterated, his eyes solemn as he looked at her, "until I get back. I need to talk to you. It's important."

Momiji's eyes flitted across Kusanagi's face, looking for anything that might offer her a small ray of hope, but she could still find nothing. Again she began to panic, worrying that he hadn't been ready to hear her confession and that in telling him she had made a grievous error.

"But I have to go pick up Noa," she protested weakly, thinking of ways to try and delay their 'talk'.

"Wait for me to come back," he repeated insistently, "and we'll go together."

Seeing his look of determination, she knew that she could not delay the inevitable and so she nodded numbly. That seemed to satisfy him, and after one, more, hard look at her, he turned to go. He bade her goodbye as he strolled through the door and she responded weakly, still standing glued to the spot, too caught up in her worries to even bother asking where he was going.


	28. 27: Alpha and Omega

27. Alpha and Omega

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWETNY-SEVEN

Midori rolled over, her short, dark hair falling into her eyes, and groaned. She moved to push the hair away and grimaced at the sharp jab of pain that shot through her hand. It was so stiff, she could barely flex it, and her arm felt even worse. It had been bothering her all night, making it impossible to find an easy position. And to top it all off, there was the soreness between her legs – she didn't even want to think about that one, she told herself with a grimace, since it was an indirect result of why she was awake. All night long, she had tried to keep the dark hair and steel grey eyes of the man who slept in the room down the hall from dominating her thoughts; an task that she hadn't even remotely succeeded at.

Midori slowly opened her eyes and with a sigh looked at her clock. Five a.m. – only half an hour later than the last time she looked. And apart from the bright red, luminescent numbers of her digital clock, the room was shaded in darkness. The stillness around her was so complete that it felt as if the entire world was holding its breath; waiting, for Midori knew not what. All she knew was, instead of soothing her, she found the quiet heavy and oppressive; the same as the images and emotions that had plagued her during the course of the long night. Finally tired of lying there, she pushed herself up and out of the bed, her body protesting with every step she took.

She should take a shower, she silently advised herself, but she felt too weary to make the effort just now. So she moved to the closet instead and got dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a baggy, soft blue sweater. She needed the extra room in the sleeves so that the fabric didn't constantly rub against her extremely sore arm. Running a quick brush through her shiny brown hair, she tucked the short strands behind her ears, her stomach beginning to knot up as she picked up the solution for Murakumo's mitama that she had left sitting on her nightstand, before she headed out her bedroom door.

Trying not to think too much, she padded down the hall to his room, looking at the bottle clutched tightly between her white-knuckled fingers. Seeing how tense they were, she made herself relax them, stopping just outside his door to take a calming breath. In and out; make it quick, she told herself as she opened the door.

She took a small step into the dim room and pulled up short when she saw that the bed was empty. The coverlet was only slightly wrinkled from where Murakumo had been lying on top of it earlier, but the sheets hadn't even been pulled back. Surely he hadn't gone again? Midori speculated in dismay. The room felt frigidly cold and she pulled her arms around her body as the crispness of fresh air brushed against her face and filled her nostrils with the smell of winter. The window was open, she realized with a start.

Her gaze automatically shifted to the left and she saw the blinds had been opened and the sheer curtains fluttered ever so slightly from the air currents coming through the wide open sash - but there was no sign of Murakumo anywhere.

He had gone again, came the appalled thought, and she rushed over to the window and stuck her head out, jumping out of her skin when she heard a voice from behind her. It surprised her so badly that she whacked her head against the wooden frame.

"Looking for me?" came Murakumo's soft voice.

WHAM!

"Agh!" Midori jerked her head in from outside and put her bandaged hand to the back of her head along the line of pain that now radiated against her skull. She spun around and looked at him standing close behind her, an enigmatic expression on his pale face. "Where were you?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice level even though her brown eyes were accusing, irked at him for not being where she had expected him to be.

"Over there," he told her.

Her expression turned sheepish as she followed his pointing finger to the small computer desk and chair that was positioned behind the door. She hadn't even thought to look in that direction when she came in. When she had seen that his bed was empty she had automatically focused on the open window, the possibility that he still might still be in the room had never once crossed her mind.

Midori saw Murakumo give her a searching look, his eyes sweeping critically over her face, which she had found, while she had was brushing her hair, looking plainer than ever due to her fatigue. He must have thought so too, for he abruptly turned away from her and returned to the desk chair. She watched him straddle it with his legs so that his arms were propped against the top. He leaned forward then, his hands dangling over the back, and let his eyes return to her, his gaze piercing and disturbing. She found it hard to meet his gaze and so she let her eyes drop to his long white fingers, completely unaware that she had been occupying a good portion of his thoughts for the last five or six hours – along with the other portion that had been taken up with sorting through what had occurred between he and Susano-oh.

"Why aren't you in bed?" she asked his fingers awkwardly.

"Why aren't you?" he replied, his eyebrows soaring over his eyes in a challenging way when Midori's eyes skittered back to his face when he turned the question back on her.

He rattled her so easily, she thought in irritation as she felt a dull flush creep across her face. She turned away from him then, gazing out of the window while she struggled to regain some of her lost composure.

"I brought the solution for your mitama," she explained stiffly. "It really needs to be applied."

"No, it doesn't," he retorted and she swiveled around as if to argue with him but he didn't let her speak as he continued, "the mitama has been completely repaired." At her look of disbelief, he gave a snort of laughter and unwound himself from around the chair, standing and pulling his shirttail free from his trousers as he slowly walked back in her direction. "Here, see for yourself," he told her.

He pulled the shirt up and over his head catching up the long strands of his hair inside of it so that when he finally pulled free of it, the jet black waves came cascading haphazardly back down, some falling across his face, obscuring one of his eyes, and the rest, tumbling down his shoulders to brush again his chest. Midori watched his approach wide-eyed, trying not to let his nearness affect her as he came to a stop just inches from her, but it was useless. Her heart began to thump heavily in her chest anyway.

Murakumo kept his eyes pinned steadily to her, a slight, knowing smile curling the corners of his mouth into a slight smile when he saw the trepidation in her expression. He finally understood what it meant. She was not afraid that he would hurt her, she was just afraid that he would touch her.

And so she should be, came a small voice from the back of his mind, and his smile widened ever so slightly.

Before Midori could react, Murakumo reached down and grabbed her hand bringing up to his chest and placing it against his mitama, letting it stroke against the unblemished smoothness of its surface.

"Do you feel it?" he asked lowly.

Midori jerked her hand away from him, a frown marring her face, not quite comprehending the predatory look he was giving her. What was he trying to do, she wondered, bewildered, when it had been clearly obvious from yesterday's fiasco that she repulsed him?

"I – I can _see _quite plainly that it no longer has any cracks in it," she told him sharply. "- But I just don't understand how…" Her voice trailed off in a puzzled fashion.

"Magic," he told her with a cryptic smile.

Midori snorted and turned away, thinking that he was making fun of her.

A gust of wind came through the window, making the blinds scrape back and forth against the glass pane before it hit her in the face and a shiver went up her spine. She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering, and realized that even though she had only been in the room for a few moments, she was already frozen solid. She shot a quick look over her shoulder at Murakumo, her eyes flitting down to his bare chest and wondered how he could seem so unaffected by the iciness of the room. Was it because he was Aragami that extreme temperature didn't bother him?

"Don't you get cold?" she asked him diffidently, turning back around to face him and wrapping her arms tighter around her body.

"Yes," he replied and she waited for him to add something further, but he didn't.

He just continued to stare at her in that unnerving fashion and she stuck her tongue out and moistened her suddenly dry lower lip, tensing as he suddenly took another step closer, bringing him too close for her heart to feel safe.

She turned back to the window then, but threw her next words back over her shoulder, her voice sounding nervous and edgy in her own ears, "Well, if you're cold, then you won't mind if I close the window, will you?"

She put the bottle she had been carrying on the windowsill but before she could reach up his voice stopped her. "No, leave it open. I like the smell."

"The smell?" she repeated faintly, a note of inquiry in her voice. She felt him press even closer to her then, so that if she leaned back just a fraction of an inch, she would come into contact with the warm skin of his chest.

"Can't you smell it? The trees and the earth? The clean scent of nature at rest?" he wanted to know, "or are you humans incapable of…"

Suddenly angry beyond all reason, she rounded on him, a militant gleam in her eyes.

"Why do you have to think you're so superior to everyone!?" she demanded shrilly. "You think that I'm not capable of understanding or sensing the changes in the earth just because I'm human? You think that because you're Aragami that makes you the only one in this room capable of appreciating the sky above and the earth below, and all of the facets of nature in between? It doesn't! I understand all of that, too! I understand it better than you, in fact," she stormed wildly poking a finger into his chest, " I'm not the one trying to destroy an entire species! - You are!" she added with another poke.

"- And contrary to your opinion, Murakumo, there is nothing wrong with being human!" she continued defiantly, trying to bring her voice down to a normal decibel level. "Besides that; I think I'm a pretty darn good person, even for a human!" She punctuated her defense of herself by stoutly thumping herself in the chest with her good hand, her brown eyes brightly illuminated with her ire.

Midori watched Murakumo's face, her breathing rapid and her mouth pulled into a tight line, expecting his expression to darken like a thundercloud at any moment. It didn't. Instead, his mouth twisted into a wry grimace and he gave a harrumph of laughter.

"For a human, " he told her softly, "You 're quite amazing."

Midori's mouth fell open in utter astonishment, too shocked by his admission to try and pull away when he brought his hand up and cupped her face, his fingers warm and gentle against the chill of her skin. The bright anger in her eyes died out and her expression clouded over, once again becoming bewildered, as she was unable to reconcile his sudden softness with his complete and utter rejection from yesterday.

"You defy what I know and what I have seen of your kind, Midori. But I have ceased trying to understand why you behave the way you do. Instead I must try and understand what it is that I have failed to consider, - " he stopped abruptly, a tense expression on his face.

Midori sensed he was struggling with something and she expected him to withdraw from her, but he didn't. If anything his steel grey eyes became more probing, sliding over her face with a fierce intensity. " – It is hard to let go of what I know," he told her, "- but not impossible…"

Midori just looked more confused than ever, and she felt his fingers glide from her cheek to the back of her head, applying a gentle pressure to bring her closer to him as he leaned down. She wondered if he was going to kiss her, but he didn't. He just continued to speak, his voice softly mesmerizing.

"It's not impossible," he whispered, his light grey eyes boring into her dark ones, as if he found the answer to a hard fought conclusion in their soft velvety depths, "because of what one silly girl has shown me… Because of this, I must now depart from what I have accepted as truth, depart from the path of my father and seek to find my own way. The gods have deemed it necessary, and I – I now demand it of myself."

Still not understanding, Midori struggled to make sense of what he was telling her, going over it in her mind.

"Then I guess… what you're saying is… that with your mitama completely healed, you'll… you'll be leaving?" Midori asked slowly, torn over how she hoped he would reply.

Murakumo let go of her then and pulled back a little, not saying anything at first, looking almost surprised that she had asked him that question. It was almost as if he hadn't given much thought to the issue. And then, before he could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of a blood-curdling scream coming from somewhere else inside the house. Midori's head jerked around and her eyes widened. She recognized that high-pitched wail.

"Oh, no!" she breathed and pulled away from Murakumo heading towards the door, leaving him standing watching her curiously.

It was Yuji, her brother.

What was he doing home? She thought, panicked. She listened to the sound of hysterical laughter and followed it into the kitchen, her heart dropping to her feet when she realized what it was he was so upset about: his hardwood floor. He must have seen the mess she had made of it.

Midori flew into the kitchen and skidded to a halt, staring at her brother, her remorseful look tinged with long-suffering. She adored her brother, but his love of his home and all his little gadgets and toys he filled it with sometimes bordered on the fanatical. He was so very possessive about his things, guarding them almost like they were his children instead of mere objects. And he had always been that way too. Even when they had been kids. Midori had learned early on to steer clear of anything that could be broken, bent or scratched. She had discovered that it was the best way to keep her otherwise mild mannered brother from sliding into an apoplectic fit.

She watched him now; his hands clutching fistfuls of hair on either side of his head, hopping up and down like an energetic jumping bean. His moans of lamentation were broken every so often by an outburst of hysterical laughter. He was making so much noise, that it took him a moment to realize that she was there, despite the fact that she had called his name at least three times.

When he finally did see her, enough of the insanity gripping him faded so that he could utter her name with some semblance of normality. For a brief moment he was her beloved Yuji before the ravening beast took over and he was once again sucked into the heart of his frenetic tirade.

"Midori," he mumbled in surprise, "I saw your car, but I didn't think you'd actually be here. Do you know mother and father are worried sick about you?" he asked her, and then before she had a chance to say anything, he vice turned shrill, becoming hysterical. "My beautiful floor!! It's ruined, totally ruined! Look at this! Did you see this!?" he railed at her, and before she realized it, his hand shot out and he snagged her by the arm, dragging her ruthlessly towards him, his fingers made unintentionally harsh by the strong emotion gripping him. "What the heck happened here, Midori? Did you do this!?" He demanded giving her arm a rough shake.

Midori felt all of the blood drain from her face, and she sucked in her breath as searing pain rushed up her arm and exploded. Her stomach suddenly began churning with the intensity of it, her brother's fingers continuing to bite cruelly into her lacerated wound, and she made a gagging sound, unable to control the tumultuous pitch of her insides. Yuji didn't even notice. He was too distraught over the damage to his floor to pay any attention to his little sister's sudden, sickly green color.

Little black spots began to swim before Midori's eyes and she felt her knees begin to buckle, her brother's voice coming from a distance now. She was just seconds from making a resounding splat against the floor when she heard an order issued to her brother somewhere over her head.

"Let go of her, you pathetic little worm, before I rip your arm off!" Murakumo snarled menacingly.

What was he doing? Midori thought in horror as she heard her brother's screech of alarm. Midori wanted to snap at Murakumo not to threaten her brother, but the words wouldn't come. It took her a moment before she could get her mouth open without gagging, and when she finally managed it, all that came out was a low moan as her knees finally gave way and she headed for the floor, a wave of black engulfing her senses.

She opened her eyes a few minutes later, disoriented, her body stretched out the full length of the sofa, staring at the plasterwork of the ceiling. Her stomach was still churning, but not quite as badly, and her arm felt heavy; throbbing with a dull fire that had been burning uncontrollably only just moments before. She felt a slow, wet trickle down her arm and realized that with all of the mad jostling, the gash had reopened. It would need to be re-bandaged now she mused, fuzzily, blinking several times, before she tried cautiously sitting up, still woozy headed, to see her brother propped up on the armchair across from her.

At least he was no longer practically foaming at the mouth, Midori thought with relief, noting with that he seemed curiously subdued; much more so than was normal for him, as a matter of fact. And then she realized why. There was a look of abject terror settled across his features as he stiffly sat on the edge of his chair, his eyes glued to the end of the sofa not two feet from her.

Midori didn't have to wonder what had him so keyed up. She knew even before she turned her head, following Yuji's line of sight what she would find. Sure enough there was Murakumo, now once again fully dressed, his hip propped against the edge of the sofa, his arms crossed, and a threatening scowl on his handsome face as he glared at her brother.

"Stop that!" Midori snapped at him in a thready voice, not quite recovered.

At her words, Murakumo's head turned in her direction, but his glare did not abate. If anything, his expression became even more severe, now focusing his anger on her instead of her brother.

"Stop what?" he inquired arrogantly, looking down his nose at her, noting that her face still had a greenish white cast to it.

"You know very well what!" she retorted tartly, her eyebrows inching together over her dark eyes. His haughtiness riled her and lent strength to her voice, despite how puny she felt at the moment. "You're trying to intimidate my brother in your usual high-handed fashion!"

"Oh really?" Murakumo replied coolly, one eyebrow soaring at her accusation. Without stirring from his casually negligent pose, he swiveled his basilisk stare back to Yuji. His cold grey eyes locked with Midori's brother's brown ones and he inquired icily, "Have I said anything to intimidate you in the few moments that Midori had been unconscious?"

Yuji looked like he wanted to scream _YES!_ But instead he clamped his lips together, as if he were afraid that any sound that might slip past them would mean certain annihilation, and he violently shook his head back and forth. Murakumo turned his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"There, you see?" he told her with a wave of his hand, "I have done nothing. Other than save you from splitting your head open on the kitchen floor when you passed out. - Which I wouldn't have had to do if this -" he paused and shot a nasty look at Yuji, making the petite man shrink back into his chair, as if trying to disappear completely, "- this pathetic little muckworm that you call 'brother' hadn't treated you so violently."

"You're doing it again!" she complained. She resisted the urge to put her hand against the throbbing wetness slowly trickling down her arm under sleeve. Instead she rose unsteadily to her feet to step between her brother and Murakumo, trying to block Murakumo's view of Yuji.

"I am doing nothing but stating the facts," he fumed. He pushed away from the sofa so that he could tower over her, and Midori was too short to hinder him from shooting his black looks over the top of her head towards her brother. After a moment however, his gaze pivoted from Yuji back to Midori.

Murakumo looked down at her, his mouth pulled into a forbidding frown and Midori stared back up at him, her frown becoming just as fierce. Their gazes locked in a stalemate.

He may have said that he had given up trying to understand her, and yet as she stood there, once again trying to defend the indefensible actions of another; he found that a part of him just couldn't let go of trying to analyze that _extremely_ irritating part of her. But his irritation didn't last long when he was forced to ask himself: why she was it. Was she doing it because it was her nature to defend others? Or was it simply because she felt the need to defy him, struggling against the feelings he had seen in her face the night before?

Suddenly he wanted - no - he _needed _to know if that was the case and so after a moment, he demanded, "Why do you take his side, Midori? How can you dismiss so lightly the pain that he was causing you?"

"How was he to know he was hurting me?" Midori continued, defending her brother hotly.

"All he had to do was take one look at your face and he would have known. It was clear to see that you were close to collapse – but he was too busy shaking the fool out of you and cursing the gods about the damage that had been done to his floor to see that you were seconds away from unconsciousness! His callousness," Murakumo replied, his voice taking on a distinctively cutting edge as he looked over the top of Midori's head to where Yuji stood, "is just what I have come to expect from your kind."

Thoroughly disgusted, Murakumo dismissively turned away then, and prowled over to the window to watch the sun rise, the sky gleaming gold with pale streaks of crimson clouds, trailing outward against a darker blue-grey.

"Your kind?" Yuji echoed, perplexed, his dark eyes, so much like his sister's, flickering briefly to the tall stranger standing by the window before focusing on his sister. "What does he mean by 'your kind'?"

"Oh, well," Midori stalled, biting her lip and twirling the short lock of hair lying against her cheek around her finger, desperately trying to think of something to tell her brother, "he just… means… siblings – brothers and sisters. – Murakumo is - an only child," she stuttered hastily. She shot a nervous look over at the broad shoulders of the object of their conversation and wondered if what she was telling her brother about him being an only child was the truth or a lie… "He has never really understood the, er, complexities of the bond shared between a brother and a sister."

"I see," Yuji replied after a moment's cogitation, his gaze sliding uncertainly from his sister's tense face, to Murakumo's back and then back to his sister's face again.

"Yuji, I'm really sorry about your floor," Midori started apologizing, feeling that it needed to be said. "It was an accident - I was doing a little research for work and –"

"Never mind," Yuji said, looking a little shamefaced, his eyes showing his concern for his sister. "What I want to know is what happened to you?" he pointed to the heavy bandage wrapped around her hand as he spoke, " and what you're doing, hiding out here?"

Midori started at his questions, her eyes widening apprehensively and her expression becoming nervous.

"Hiding? _Ha! Ha-ha!_" she forced a laugh, hoping her brother wouldn't notice how insincere it sounded. "Whatever gave you the silly notion that I'm hiding?"

"Come on, Midori," he responded quietly, trying not to notice that the tall, dark and brooding stranger had turned from the window and had rejoined them. Yuji shot a sideways glance at Murakumo before edging nervously away from him. Then he focused his attention back on his sister, trying very hard to forget the existence of the disturbing man. "Mother called me, beside herself with worry. She told me that no one knew where you were – not even that girl from the TAC –"

"Momiji," Midori automatically inserted when he hesitated, groping for the name.

"- that girl, Momiji, that you've become such good friends with – " he obediently repeated the name, "Mother said Momiji had called, worried about you; although, she tried to hide it from Mother – and Mother received phone calls from several other members of the Terrestrial Administration Center as well. They were all worried that something terrible had happened to you," he informed her sternly, "I was too. That's why I came home early. I caught the first plane from New York back to Tokyo as soon as I could – and even though your car was parked in the drive, I never dreamed that I would find you here with – " Yuji refrained from adding 'someone', but Midori could feel the unspoken word hanging between them before he changed it to, "- with, with… without telling me that you were going to be here while I was gone. It's not that I mind you staying here, Midori," he reassured her, not wanting her to think she wasn't welcome in his home, " you know that. But the point is, you should have told someone where you were."

As he finished speaking, Midori watched her brother's eyes surreptitiously slide back to Murakumo, trying to figure out what her sister was doing with such strange and overly hostile individual. Warning bells began going off inside her head. She was going to have to think of something to tell him, and quick; otherwise, her brother would end up divulging Murakumo's existence - not that it really mattered anymore since he was fully recovered. But because she loved him, Midori couldn't keep herself from wanting to continue to protect him, despite the fact that he had told her he would destroy her, and was now probably powerful enough to do so.

"Well you needn't have bothered rushing back home on my behalf, Yuji," Midori assured him, "I'm fine. I just needed a little break from the tedium of work and decided to crash at your place for a while."

"Still," Yuji insisted, refusing to let it drop, "- it's not like you to just disappear without a word to anyone, Midori. "

"There was a reason, Yuji," Midori told him, giving him a meaningful look.

She had hoped he would understand the lie she was trying to imply and save her the humiliation of having to spell it out with Murakumo standing right there at her elbow. But the implication was completely lost on her brother as he simply stood there and blinked stupidly at her, waiting for her to explain just exactly what that reason was.

"I can't think of any one occasion where you would need…" Yuji began and trailed off into uncomfortable silence as he watched his sister lean towards the dark haired stranger and slide her arm around his waist, her face going from pale white to fiery red in a matter of seconds.

Midori prayed that Murakumo wouldn't jerk away from her as she nervously slid her hand around him. She quickly tipped her head to look up at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand, and saw the flash of surprise in his eyes before that bored, arrogant expression was once more in place and he turned to look challengingly at Yuji.

Midori thought it would have been more convincing if he had moved to put his arm around her as well, but he didn't. But apparently the look he was giving Yuji was enough, for her brother's gaze dropped to the floor then, a dull color creeping across the ridge of his cheekbones, and he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"I would think it was, er, obvious, Yuji," Midori explained softly, her embarrassment making her voice sound muffled in her own ears. "I wanted to be alone with Murakumo," she hesitated, trying not to choke on his name. "But I knew that Mother and Father would hardly approve, so – I decided to take some time off for a while. I haven't been gone that long, so, I don't know why everyone's so worried.

And as you can see, there isn't anything for them to worry about – and this is nothing," she added, raising her bandaged hand up when she saw her brother's dubious gaze swing downwards and become even more skeptical, "I, er, burned my hand while cooking. But other than that, I'm perfectly fine. Now that you're back, though, I think it's safe to say that my vacation is at an end. I don't want to impose on you, so I think it's time that I return to -" she began, but broke off when she felt Murakumo's body suddenly jerk and stiffen. Midori slid a sideways glance up at him, but he had focused his attention on the wall, his eyes moving over it, staring intently at it as if there was something more there besides the white paint.

"Y-you don't have to leave, Midori," Yuji began, not wanting his sister to feel like he was kicking her out, but not thrilled with the idea of having her… _companion_ remain as well. The idea of having to sit down to dinner with _him _was a bone chilling one, enough to make Yuji want to stop eating altogether. So he tried not to think about it as he continued offering his hospitality in a dogged fashion, "you know you're welcome to stay –" he began, unable to keep his eyes from sliding fearfully to Murakumo.

"I must leave," Murakumo interrupted abruptly, pulling away from Midori.

Midori watched him, her mouth open in dismay as he went to the window and looked out, and she couldn't stop herself from saying, "Right now? Right this minute?" even though she knew how desperate it sounded.

Murakumo turned and gave her a distracted look before hurriedly moving towards the front door, "Yes, right now," he threw over his shoulder while he pushed his feet into his shoes and yanked the front door open.

"W-wait!" Midori called, ignoring the look on her brother's face at their odd un-lover like behavior as she hurried after Murakumo, shoveling her feet into her own shoes and scooting out the door after him.

Murakumo heard Midori's voice but he ignored her for the moment, continuing to move forward, his eyes intently raking the sky. He had been sensing the presence of another Aragami soul approaching, but it wasn't until just a few moments ago that he realized that it was not Sekage's soul, the servant he had sent to find his son, but the souls of Kusanagi, that he felt. Kusanagi must have felt his summons too, Murakumo concluded, and was now coming to confront him.

Never in his life had Murakumo run from a battle.

Until now.

And even now, it went against his nature to do so. Kusanagi had always been his enemy. And the hostility and hatred for the half human's rebellion from the Aragami kingdom still burned with a furious intensity inside Murakumo, urging him to stay and face the half breed. Yesterday, he would have heeded the blood lust that sang through his veins. He would have drawn his blade in welcome for the green-haired man fast approaching and would have taken any opening to defeat him. And had Murakumo been successful, he would have watched with intense satisfaction as the life's blood flowed away from the imperfect soul who had become the thorn long embedded in his side.

But today, he could do none of those things. For after a long night of struggle, the sunrise had brought a death to Murakumo's past, slaying his shadowed memories and loyalties with the brightness of its rays, dissolving them and revealing them to be built upon a truth that had never existed. And now all that remained were his unresolved feelings of antagonism that would serve him ill in any confrontation if he were to stay and await his… brother. He must leave now if he wanted to ensure that the energy trail from his souls had dissipated enough to avoid having Kusanagi follow him.

Murakumo sprang forward then, taking to the air, anxious to be away, but Midori's voice called to him yet again.

"Stop!" she cried breathlessly, "Murakumo, please!"

Every nerve in his body told him he had no time to lose, but he found himself hesitating, unable to ignore the note of entreaty in her voice. He remained hanging motionless in the air, staring off into the distance for a moment longer before returning to the ground with an exasperated sigh.

He waited with strained patience for her to reach him, irritably wishing that she would hurry and say whatever it was she wanted to say. But when he turned and looked over his shoulder at her, some of his impatience died at the lost expression on her face, and a foreign emotion grabbed his stomach and twisted it into a knot.

"I – I," she began and stopped, her mouth still working but no sound coming out.

Now that she had his attention, she didn't know what it was she wanted to say. What was she going to do, wish him luck? she asked herself perversely. That would be rather stupid! Especially since she was well aware that his goal was to destroy humanity. So why had she run out here after him, desperate to stop him before he left?

To tell him goodbye, a voice whispered to her, to see his face one last time, perhaps. Because after today, her life would resume its normal course, and for a while - at least until she heard rumblings from the TAC regarding any trouble that Murakumo might be stirring up by then – things were going back to the way they should be. But instead of feeling happy or relieved about it, Midori wanted to cry, the ache in her chest so heavy that it threatened to suffocate her.

She would never have another chance to speak to him, never have a chance, she realized, the ache intensifying even more, to see that part of him that she had longed to see. For it had never manifested itself clearly enough for her to see here in Ise, and now she knew that it never would…

"I wanted to say goodbye before you left," she managed to mumble numbly.

Without realizing it, she had reached out and wrapped her fingers around his arm as she had spoken to him, looking up at him, her heartache clearly reflected in her brown eyes.

But Murakumo wasn't looking into her eyes. He was looking at her hand and seeing the crimson stained band of her sweater sleeve. Pulling free of her grasp, he grabbed her arm with both hands and gently shoved the material up her arm to her elbow, leaving a trail of smeared blood along her forearm. He swore softly under his breath and Midori tried to pull her arm away, but he held it firmly in his grasp so she was unable to break free.

"I know what you're thinking," she told him and bit her lip when he finally turned his furious eyes upon her face.

"Do you?" he challenged softly.

"But it's not his fault, Murakumo – he didn't know," she reiterated, adding rather hurriedly, "and it doesn't hurt any more – at least not much, so it doesn't matter – "

"You're wrong," he cut in, "It _is _his fault, no matter how much you may try to excuse him – and it matters to me."

He gave a gentle yank on her arm as he spoke the last word, not enough to cause her any pain, but enough so that she stumbled against him. As Midori toppled into him, she found herself trapped, anchored in place by his other arm that had come up and wrapped itself around her waist and she heard his voice start up again somewhere over her head.

"If I had time, I would make sure –" he began in a threatening manner, but stopped abruptly when he felt her stiffen against him. He tried to relax and took a deep breath so that when he again continued speaking, his voice was softer, as he tried his best, despite the urgent need to be away, not to hurt her. "I cannot stay, Midori," he told her. He finally let go of her arm so that he could stroke the palm of his hand against the softness of her hair, and she pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes tightly against the sting of tears. "I feel an old enemy approaching. I cannot fight him. Not now, at any rate, so I must leave before he arrives."

His arm tightened around her briefly before he finally loosened it and held her away from him. He looked down into her eyes for a long moment and then leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, lingering kiss.

"Thank you, Midori," he whispered as he let his lips drift away from hers, his face still inches from hers and his eyes still closed, "for saving me."

Midori felt the warmth of his embrace slip away, and she kept her eyes closed, trying futilely to stop the pool of tears from slipping free. When she did finally open them, Murakumo had disappeared from sight.

Midori looked at the early morning sun that had just peaked over the horizon; the signal to the beginning of a new day, and the end of her time in Ise. She heard her brother slip out of the door and, with tentative steps, approach her. He called her name, but she didn't say anything for a moment, trying to get her emotions back under control.

"You know you are welcome to stay as long as you like," he told her, anxiously looking sideways at her distraught expression.

Midori gave him a watery smile before she embraced him, saying, "Thank you, dear brother. But I think it's time for me to return to Tokyo."


	29. 28: Pool of Restoration

28. Pool of Restoration

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Feeling completely exasperated, Kusanagi landed among the cover of thick trees along the green banks of the Isuzu River and shoved an impatient hand through his greenish black hair, not quite sure what he should do next. Quietly moving forward, he lifted a hand and brushed past the dense, low hanging branches of the cypress trees, and as he walked, the tails of his black coat swirled around his pant legs and the soles of his shoes sank into the softness of the dark, fertile soil. His long strides carried him towards the river and as he approached the water's edge, he stooped to pick up a worn-looking, flat rock that caught his eyes. His fingers curled around the cold smoothness of it, and he lifted his gaze to stare out over the serene stillness of the dark green waters, a brooding and somewhat puzzled expression knitting his brows together.

Absently, he rubbed his thumb along the unblemished surface of the stone, and then turned, a solitary figure among the green, to begin walking between the line of cypress trees and along the water's edge. It was so quiet here, he reflected, and he titled his head and listened to the stillness of the natural beauty around him. Kusanagi could find no peace in it though, for his thoughts acted as a tense, uneasy current that kept him from enjoying the tranquility surrounding him.

He knew, without a doubt, that an Aragami had been here. He had felt its energy as he had approached Ise, and he had been almost certain who he would find when he arrived here. He had even been mentally preparing himself for that battle as he'd made his approach. But then, the energy pattern had dissipated. And he knew that it was no coincidence. The Aragami had sensed him coming and had chosen to retreat – something that Kusanagi would've never expected the powerful Orochi or the prideful Murakumo to do - And now Kusanagi was left to grapple with the ramifications of such an uncharacteristic action, making him question the validity of whom he thought the Aragami really was.

Dissatisfied with the conclusions he was drawing, he allowed his feet to bring him to a halt and he turned towards the river, trying to force himself to relax. Turning his pensive cat-like eyes towards the water, he watched the small ripples breaking along the glassy surface as a small breeze glided across it, and he let his attention drift away from his dilemma for a moment, his fingers tightening around the stone still clutched in his hand. He lifted his arm and shifted the weight of the stone, now warmed by the heat of his touch, so that it was balanced against the natural curve of his long fingers. With a slight cock of his head, his eyes flickered absently along the curve of the riverbed, until he picked a spot farther up from where he was. And then, with little effort and an expert flick, he sent the stone skipping across the water, three, four then a fifth time before, with a final plopping noise, it sank below the dark green surface and out of sight in almost the exact spot he had anticipated it would.

Kusanagi grunted his satisfaction; a feeling that was extremely short-lived.

What a pity that his calculations concerning the Aragami hadn't been as precise, he told himself with an annoyed frown. Shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, he continued to stand, watching the ripples where his stone had landed fan out in an ever, widening circle, his thoughts focusing once more on his elusive quarry.

If the Aragami he was looking for _had _been Murakumo or Orochi, Kusanagi ruminated darkly, then he would eventually reveal himself; just as soon as the black bastard put into motion whatever plans he had made. But that was _if _Kusanagi had been correct in the first place; which, unfortunately, he had no way of knowing at this current point in time. Again, the question that had plagued him since he had realized that the Aragami had disappeared resurfaced: if it _had _been Murakumo or Orochi, then why in god's name would he have run?

And because Kusanagi could think of no reason that explained it satisfactorily, he couldn't be sure who the Aragami had really been. The maddening circle of his thoughts only caused his frown to deepen, and he turned away from the river in disgust, prowling back towards the line of trees.

He could try to follow, he supposed, try and ferret out a scent. But he really had no idea in which direction to start looking, with the trail as cold as it was. Brushing through the prickly cypress branches once again, he pushed deeper into the trees and away from the river. He decided that he would make a short search of the area anyway, not wishing his entire trip to be a wasted effort, and attempting all the while to resign himself to the fact that even if he did scout the area, he was likely to find nothing.

Such a disheartening conclusion left him feeling more than a little unsettled, and he found he was having a hard time dealing with that fact. – The possibility that Orochi was running around unchecked made his stomach churn; and although it wasn't exactly fear he felt, it came pretty damn close to it, he thought ironically. If it were just Orochi, perhaps he wouldn't feel this way, for he had never been afraid of Orochi in the past. But with the Tengugaki already a threat to humanity, Kusanagi sure as hell didn't need the added pressure of wondering if and when the eight headed demi-god was going to pop up and try to exterminate them all as well.

But what if it wasn't Orochi he had sensed? he asked himself.

And Kusanagi would give almost anything to know for certain.

Perhaps the iwatto, where the attack had taken place, would be the best place to start searching, he logically concluded. There at least, he might be able to unearth some clues that would suggest that the fleeing Aragami wasn't Orochi, which, unsurprisingly, he found himself hoping was the case. But even if he did find evidence there to support the existence of a different Aragami at the iwatto, some demented little part of his brain contrarily pointed out, it would still be almost impossible for him to put aside the memory of the presence he had felt summon him last night. It had just seemed too familiar.

And then a terrible thought occurred to him.

What if there was more than one Aragami?

What if Noa's birth had signaled the awakening of…

What the hell was he doing? Kusanagi scowled, abruptly cutting off the flow of his thoughts, irritated at the sudden turn they had taken. If he kept going like this, he told himself acerbically, he would have a whole Aragami army resurrected in his mind before he knew anything for sure. With a derisive snort, he pushed his deductions aside and took off, heading for the iwatto. Action was needed now. Anything he found, he could think about later.

Brushing the stray strands of short brown hair away from her cheek, Midori bit her lip and hesitated at the opening to the iwatto. She listened carefully but could hear nothing. And instead of being comforted by this, she found it did nothing to allay her uneasiness. For it somehow seemed unnatural not to hear anything at all. Her initial instinct was to turn around and go back to her car, but she ignored such timorousness, telling herself that she was stronger than that. Instead, she took a deep breath and plunged into the inner dimness and quickly trotted down the well-worn stone steps.

Her shoes made a deafening clicking noise against the stillness and the bottom of her stomach tightened with each step she took. If there was someone or something here besides herself, it was surely aware of her presence now, she thought with a grimace. She shouldn't have come here, the craven voice in the back of her mind silently lamented. As if trying to persuade her to turn around and leave, it conjured up images of what awaited her at the bottom of the steps: slimy, mottled skin, red-slitted eyes and long fangs, like those of the creature that had been here the day she had found Murakumo flashed vividly in front of her eyes. Just remembering it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Midori tried to dismiss the images, forcefully arguing that that creature was dead – Murakumo had killed it. But the voice that had conjured them was not as easily banished, slyly reminding her that Murakumo had been attacked by another one of those creatures just yesterday. _So that meant that there could be another one here as well..._

Gritting her teeth, Midori mercilessly suppressed her imagination. She had had to come here, she reminded herself firmly. She had dropped her satchel here that day and all of her things for work were in it – namely her cell phone, her lab id's and her office keys. And with any luck, they would still be here, and she wouldn't have to worry about the delay of procuring new ones once she got back to Tokyo; for she planned on immediately immersing herself into work.

She only hoped doing so would help her to try and forget – Midori didn't finish the notion, knowing that it ultimately led to the heartache revolving around the image of light grey eyes and long dark hair. As if running from her thoughts, she increased the tempo of her steps on the few remaining stairs. She wanted to get this errand over with as soon as possible and get out of here so that she could be on her way back to Tokyo and a normal life.

Hard on the heels of her resolution, she finally stepped into the main chamber of the iwatto and skidded to a halt. Her heart immediately lurched into her throat as her eyes lit on the tall, dark figure looming in the shadows on the other side of the central pool of water.

Oh, dear god! her mind screamed.__

She felt her brown eyes widened in terror, and her hands reflexively flew up to cover her mouth which was open. She wanted to scream, but found it impossible to draw air into her lungs or to move for that matter, for the rapidly rising column of fear that was coursing through her chest and responsible for her lack of air, was spiraling outward, turning her legs to stone.

"Midori!?" A puzzled voice echoed in the silence, and then, " - My god, it _is _you!"

It took several seconds for her to realize that she was being addressed and when she recognized Kusanagi's voice, her body sagged in relief and she drew in a gasp of air as she was able to breathe again.

"Where have you been!?" Kusanagi demanded and Midori watched as he flitted across the pool in the way that she had only seen him do. As he closed the distance separating them, she could see the concern etched across his features. "Everyone has been so worried about you – " he stopped abruptly, his eyes sliding over the chalky color of her face and added, "are you all right?"

"Oh yes," Midori assured him with a ghost of a smile, "I just didn't expect anyone to be here, that's all."

Kusanagi gave her a funny look and then looked around the empty cavern, "What did you come back here for?" he finally asked.

She shot a startled look at him, one, he noted that was tinged with a trace of guilty panic and alarms began to go off in his head.

"I – I," Midori stammered, feeling as if Kusanagi somehow knew about Murakumo.

But that was impossible! she assured herself, struggling to recover her composure.

Closing her mouth, she took a long swallow and forcibly reminded herself that it was only natural for Kusanagi to have known that she had been here. After all, Ms. Matsudaira had asked her to come here and collect samples. And once she had gone missing, the rest of the team would have known that this was the last place she was supposed to have been.

"I came back to get my things," she finally managed in a somewhat normal tone, her eyes dropping away from his when she realized that he was giving her a hard stare.

To escape his probing gaze, she moved away from him on the pretext of looking around for her satchel, and then said over her shoulder by way of explanation, "When I came here to get the rock samples, there was this creature – "

"Tengugaki," Kusanagi inserted, and Midori immediately abandoned all pretense of searching to swing back around to look at him instead.

"You know what they're called?" she asked earnestly, walking back towards him when he just continued to study her and failed to add anything further. "What are they? Where do they come from? Are there many more of them?" she fired at him, and then muttered, "I've never seen anything like it. It had a mitama but it wasn't like you or –"

She stopped suddenly and could have bitten her tongue out, for she had been just about to speak Murakumo's name aloud. After a quick look at Kusanagi's taut expression, she might as well have finished her sentence for he knew that she was hiding something.

"Like me and who else, Midori?" Kusanagi wanted to know, "Orochi? Murakumo? Who else did you see the day that you came here?" Midori didn't say anything, but Kusanagi could see her getting ready to deny what she knew, so he added tensely, "I know you saw something - Kome and Ryoko found traces of green blood in here - signs of another Aragami - so there's no use denying that you didn't see it!"

"But I didn't! I don't know who Orochi is or who M-murakumo is either!" Midori contradicted, lying through her teeth and swiftly trying to come up with a way to extricate herself from a situation that was fast becoming too complicated for her liking. "All I saw was that – Tengugaki - creature, " she told him, "that was it! It leapt out at me from nowhere," she gesticulated wildly to demonstrate. " - and then I hit it with my hammer and then, and then… I don't know how, but I managed to scramble up the stairs and back to my car. It really shook me up, so I spent a couple of days at my brother's house, trying to pull myself together," she improvised looking away again. "If the green blood wasn't from the Tengugaki, then maybe this Orochi or the other Aragami that your talking about came after I left."

Finished with her explanation, she shot a look at Kusanagi from beneath her lashes and prayed that it would be enough to satisfy him. She held her breath as he continued to stare dubiously at her for a moment longer before he turned away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his long, black coat.

Silently seething at her lies, he moved away from her, because he was afraid if he didn't, friend or not, he was likely to throttle her. Why was she hiding the truth from him? He thought, and his irritation only grew. Perhaps if he answered her questions, she might open up a little and tell him what she had seen here.

So in a voice devoid of all expression he said, "To answer your questions, concerning the Tengugaki – they are parasitic creatures made from silicates – malevolent entities that have somehow learned to manipulate the earth into a sort of humanoid form. They use the black mitamas that you noticed to fuel their bodies – storing human souls in the mitama and drawing upon that energy when they need it."

Kusanagi momentarily lapsed into silence as he stalked over to the edge of the pool and looked down into the water, remembering the sound of wailing that had risen from Tamanasu when he had split open the Tengugaki's mitama. It wasn't a sound he would soon forget, if ever; like the wail of a thousand lost souls...

Pulling himself from the darkness of his remembrances, he looked speculatively over his shoulder at Midori who stood nervously, her arms crossed self-consciously in front of her breasts, waiting for him to continue. His eyes flickered down to the bandage wound around her hand and his lips twisted in exasperation. Asking her about that would probably prove as pointless as asking her about what had happened to her here had been. What was she hiding? Again the urge to shake the information out of her gripped him and clenched his hands in his pockets. To take his mind off of it, he turned to look back down into the water and finished telling her about the Tengugaki

"At this point the TAC doesn't really know how many there are, but my guess is their numbers are endless. Their mission, it seems, is to subjugate the human race – and, " he added as an afterthought, "I suspect, the Aragami race as well. Right now, their only apparent weakness lies in their inability to effectively maintain their energy source. But that may all change if they're able to get their hands on what they're after."

"And what are they after?" Midori asked.

"A hybrid child – half Aragami, half human – " he broke off as he heard a noise from behind him and turned to see Midori staring at him in an odd, intent sort of fashion.

"A – a hybrid child?" she echoed in a tight voice, trying to hide the frisson of surprised alarm that his words had set off. "I didn't think that such a thing existed – except for you. But you're not really a hybrid are you?"

Kusanagi's lips curved into a slightly bitter smile. "Perhaps at this point in my life I might loosely be considered one. But not initially - initially I was just another normal human - until Orochi found me, that is."

"So if it isn't you they're after, then who?" Midori asked, wanting him to tell her more about the hybrid child, trying to discover if it could be Murakumo's son that Kusanagi was talking about.

"An infant – a male child by the name of Noa," Kusanagi told her, "his mother passed away giving birth to him. She was human so that would make his father an – " Kusanagi trailed off, his eyes fastened to Midori as he watched her try and then fail to suppress the overwhelming surge of restless anxiety that seized her at hearing Kusanagi's words.

Her face tense and white, Midori found that she couldn't stand still, and she felt her fingers her gripping her arms so tightly that her nails were digging into her own skin.

"Are – are you all right?" Kusanagi asked taking a step towards her and then stopping when she started backing towards the entrance, her gaze sliding away from him.

"I'm fine," she told him in an unnaturally bright voice, "but it's getting late and I really need to be getting back to Tokyo," she told him, all thoughts of retrieving her satchel completely gone. "Tell Momiji," she began abruptly changing the subject, and then hesitating as she had trouble focusing her thoughts, "Tell Momiji to call me."

"Wait! Midori!" Kusanagi called after her, but it was too late.

She had already turned and fled up the stone steps, the echoes of her footfalls betraying her haste to escape. With a growl of frustration, Kusanagi listened to the sound fade, a scowl on his face. It had been obvious to him from the moment he had mentioned the child that Midori had already known about Noa. She might not have known his name, he conceded, but she knew of his existence. Kusanagi was certain of it. But what he wasn't certain of was _how _she knew.

With another growl, Kusanagi started up the stone steps behind her, not really bothering to try and catch her. What was the use? She wasn't going to tell him anything anyway! This whole trip had been a complete waste of time, he thought with a snarl. He would have been better off remaining in Izumo. With Momiji. Where he could have spent his morning in a more… enjoyable fashion.

Such a thought only blackened his mood further and when he reached daylight once more, he let loose with a string of obscenities, for Midori was, indeed, completely gone. She might have eluded him for today, he grumbled with a scowl, but she was the only lead he had at the moment, and he was determined to find out what she was hiding. But it was obvious that he would have to find another way of getting the information from her, for the direct approach wasn't going to work.

Seeing no reason to remain in Ise, Kusanagi turned away, flitting forward to spring into the air. Once he started moving, the cold air pushed against his brow and cheeks and blew the errant strands of his hair away from his face, acting as a natural balm to cool his frayed temper. Taking a deep breath of the crisp winter air, he mentally shrugged off his irritation, looking for a strategy that would make Midori to tell him what she knew. He deliberated for a few moments, and then the image of wide, green eyes and long, chestnut hair wavered in front of his face.

Momiji.

That was the only answer he could come up with, and as he continued to deliberate, images of the outline of her incredible body against the white of her gown and the sweet taste of her lips began to dominate his thoughts. Hell, he thought derisively, this was no good. She was all he wanted to think about now that he was on his way back to her.

With a sigh of resignation he gave up trying to figure it out for the moment, hoping that Momiji would indeed prove to be the answer. Midori was Momiji's friend, so maybe she would be willing to talk to Momiji about what she knew, he concluded. It was the only viable solution that presented itself to him. He only hoped it would work.

With her folded ceremonial robes clutched to the breast of her wool coat, Momiji stared, glassy eyed at the worn path in front of her, automatically following the curves of the trail that led up to the iwatto. The trees around her were cloaked in silence, and she took her time making the climb, going over the events of the morning in her mind. Despite the sunshine, it was incredibly cold and her breath made little puffs of vapor that hung in the air for a split second before dissipating. But she hardly noticed, too caught up in her thoughts.

Things had not gone well when she had told her mother about Kaede. Momiji bit her lip and a frown creased her brow, remembering how her mother's expression had been tinged with a look of hope as she had first begun her explanation. Afraid of building up her mother's hope, Momiji had then tried to hurry her words, thinking that perhaps if she finished quickly enough, she could avoid causing her mother pain.

But despite her haste, it hadn't helped, and her mother's pain had been palpable, weighing heavily on Momiji while she watched her mother's face crumble into despair, her tears falling just as thick and fast as they had the first time she had thought Kaede had been murdered by the Aragami. Perhaps Momiji could have shouldered her mother's sorrow better if Kusanagi had been there, drawing strength from his presence. She should have probably waited for him, she thought guiltily. She had told him that she would, but then reasonably pointed out to herself that she very well couldn't - not after Ryoko had called her again this morning.

Ryoko had been highly agitated, hurriedly relaying the information that there had been an alarming string of murders in Tokyo that were most likely Tengugaki attacks. She had then told Momiji that she and Mr. Kunikida were leaving to return to Tokyo. And then she had tried to find out, without coming right out and asking, when Momiji was planning on telling Moe about Kaede.

Momiji could tell that Ryoko wanted it done as soon as possible so she would have one less thing to worry about, and so Momiji had assured her that she would do it as soon as she had gotten dressed - a task which had taken her longer than it should have, since she had been unable to find any of her underwear after her shower.

"I _know _that I left them in the kitchen sink," Momiji muttered to herself, and then added uncertainly, "at least I _think _I did…"

But they hadn't been there this morning, and she had turned the house upside down looking for them; starting with the first place she could think of: Kusanagi's room. She had been _sure _that he was playing another one of his perverted "jokes" on her and suspected that he had hidden them somewhere. But after a thorough search, she had been unable to locate them, so then she assumed that the fault was hers, that she had pulled them out of the kitchen sink and had just forgotten where she had put them. So she had tried looking in the laundry room, thinking perhaps she might have shoved them in there. But they weren't in there either. Nor had they been in her laundry hamper.

Becoming alarmed, she had then torn her drawers apart, searching for a stray pair that might have been mixed in with her other clothes. By the time she reached her last drawer, she had been beyond panicked, thinking that she was going to have to go without. But she did manage to come up with a pair. They had been lodged in the very back of her bottom drawer. And as she had held them up, she had felt not relief, but dismay, noting that they were the ones that had the big red hearts on the back and the words, "I love you Mr. Kusanagi" scribbled across them. Knowing that she had no choice, she had pulled them up her hips, feeling the color wash through her face as she had done so.

"God help me if Kusanagi gets a glimpse of these," she had muttered sheepishly, vowing to burn them just as soon as she could find her others.

But what if she couldn't find her others? she asked herself as she reached the opening to the iwatto and her footsteps petered to a stop at that thought.

"Better stop and buy some new ones on the way home. Just to be safe," she muttered absently to herself and then turned her focus outwards, looking at the remnants of the yellow tape marker that had been strung across the entrance to the iwatto to block it off.

It looked as if the local authorities had finished gathering their evidence samples. And it had taken them less time than she had thought it would. Momiji had fully expected them to be hard at work when she arrived, turning her away from the iwatto. But there was no sign of anyone, and Momiji didn't know whether to feel pleased or disappointed. Last night, she had been absolutely certain that she had wanted to do this, but now, she wasn't so sure. Kaede had not blamed her for what happened, and perhaps she should leave it at that.

But the heaviness she felt inside wasn't lightened by Kaede's words, and Momiji knew that she needed to do this, if for no other reason than to talk to her sister one last time. Perhaps if she could do that, then she could finally find what she needed to let go of it. After a last quick look back down the empty path, Momiji turned back and stepped inside the darkness of the iwatto.

She reached the bottom of the stone staircase and with sure steps, moved forward through the blackness towards the solar mirror that she knew to be standing there. Placing her robes on the ground at her feet, she nimbly unbuttoned her coat and placed it on the ledge next to the mirror. Then she raised her arms and turned the mirror to catch the rays of the early morning sun. Immediately the cave was filled with dim light, turning the walls from black to grey. Turning back around, Momiji peered up the stairs to the place where Kaede's body had fallen and then after a long moment, turned her head to look at the water of the pool.

It had been shimmering brightly that night; an incredible iridescent blue. What a beautiful sight it had been, she mused retrospectively. Even though she had barely had a chance to notice it before things had begun to go wrong. Was it Kaede's power that had caused it to glow like that? Or was it Susano-oh's? It didn't matter, she supposed, and looking at it now, completely still and dark, she would have never believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes.

Still lost in thought, she crouched down, and picked up her robes, her head turning of its own volition as her eyes sought the nebulous stillness of the pool. Slowly rising, Momiji felt herself pulled to the water's edge, mesmerized by the difference of how it looked now in comparison to how it looked that night.

It had been teeming with life and energy, but now – now it appeared cold and lifeless; the fragments of light from the solar mirror hitting the glassy surface and bouncing off, making the depths of the pool appear endless, the surface seemingly impenetrable. Tucking her robes beneath her arm, she pulled her shirt free from her pants and began unbuttoning it. As she pulled it from her shoulders, the cool, moist air of the iwatto hit the warmth of her exposed skin, sending goose bumps across her chest and stomach, and a shiver went up her spine.

Quickly unhooking her bra she placed it with her shirt in a neat pile at her feet. Then she shook out the folds of her robes, and as she did so, she felt the weight of a solid object slide against the fabric. The ceremonial blade that her grandmother had given her, Momiji realized, as it clattered loudly to the floor. She had forgotten that she had bundled it inside her robes; forgotten, too, the impulse that had caused her to pick it up from her dresser as she left her room that morning, her mind preoccupied with what she was going to say to her mother.

Momiji lurched forward to try and catch it, the bronze and gold of the chokin images on the scabbard gleaming in the feeble light. But she wasn't quick enough, and it hit the ground with a metallic clink, the blade jarred free upon impact with the stone floor. Now separated from it's protective casing, the tantou continued skittering forward and Momiji realized with dismay that it was headed towards the water. With a frantic gasp, she stretched her bare arm outward just as there was a loud _PLOP! _and the blade disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Almost immediately a blinding light exploded in front of her and Momiji stumbled backwards, falling to her rear end and shielding her eyes from the intense brightness with her robes still clutched in her hands. There was a rising, rushing sound, and then she felt a wall of warmth press against her body. It lifted her hair from her bare shoulders, caressing her skin as invisible tendrils of air curled around her, wrapping her in their warmth and filtering past her to expand farther into the cavern.

The light expanded too as if it sought to fill every corner with its brilliance before dissolving into a bearable incandescence, and Momiji was able to drop her hands away from her eyes and look up, dumbfounded by what had just occurred. Hurriedly shoving her arms into the sleeves of her robe and belting it at the waist, she scrambled to her feet and cautiously edged closer to the rim of the pool.

The water was glowing again, but this time, the light wasn't blue. It was gleaming like molten gold, shining with an incredible brightness as the surface moved in slow, undulating waves. And above it, the air was awash with luminous color. A thin veil of gold hung like a delicate mist suspended in midair, where tiny orbs of white, glimmering like diamonds, shifted slowly within the gossamer folds.

Momiji watched, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes following the lazy movements of the orbs as they danced in the air, before she looked back at the pool, still awash with restless movement.

What was going on here? she wondered in awe.

And then her eyes caught sight of a bright object lying against the bottom of the pool. It was the tantou, and its blade was aglow, the steel no longer metallic grey but a golden red.

Momiji fell to her knees and leaned her face close to the surface of the water, holding back her hair to keep it from falling into the pool while she stared intently at the tantou. Was the ceremonial blade causing all of this? she puzzled, looking at the water and the spangled mist that hung above it, before turning her attention back to the knife resting along the bottom of the pool. This power was so different from what she had seen before when Kaede was here, and, Momiji was left to doubt whether or not it originated from Susano-oh. But if not from him, then where and what kind of power was it? she thought uneasily.

With a tentative hand she reached out, her fingertips hovering over the water, almost afraid to touch the surface. She hesitated for a long moment before finally allowing her fingers to quickly skim the surface, jerking them back almost before they had accomplished the task, another jolt of shock running through her. The water had been pleasantly warm, and Momiji, who had been purifying herself in these waters ever since she was a child, knew how unusual that was. But what was even more unusual was what had happened to the tantou when she had touched the water.

It had changed color, the blade going from golden red to pure white, blazing with a dazzling intensity. However, the minute her fingers left the surface of the water, the light had died away, changing back to the gold-red of before, and Momiji's feelings of trepidation at the strangeness of it all began to grow stronger. Trying to ignore the insistent voice of warning in the back of her head, Momiji took a deep breath and determinedly stretched her hand out once more.

The moisture that remained clinging to her fingertips began to form small, elongated beads that shivered from the tremors shaking her hand as she held it out as far as she could. The drops grew in size, until, with a slight shudder, they were released, falling downwards, immediately swallowed up by the gentle roll of the golden waves. Momiji barely noticed them as she leaned out as far as she could over the pool, her toes dangling over the edge and her balance in jeopardy as she tried to gauge the distance between herself and the tantou.

No matter how much she stretched, she concluded with a frown, it was just too far away for her to reach from where she was. Brushing the remaining droplets of water from her fingers, Momiji clambered to her feet, and hovered uncertainly on the edge of the pool, watching the small will-o-wisps float around, trying to decide what to do.

After a few moments contemplation, she turned and picked up her shirt folding it neatly before carrying over to the solar mirror to put it with her coat. Then she kicked off her shoes, and peeled off her stockings, but left her pants on without bothering to put on her hakama, knowing that what she was about to do was insane. But she could see no other alternative. She needed to get that knife, she thought irresolutely. Her grandmother had entrusted it to her. She had believed that it contained a special power.

Well, Momiji thought wryly, she was right about the power part. But, Momiji seriously doubted that her grandmother had ever imagined anything like this when she had told her it was a formidable weapon. Momiji moved towards the pool again, momentarily stopping to pick up the tantou's scabbard from the ground as she went and tuck it between her robe and her belt. Her fingers curled around the engraved chokin images at her waist and as she straightened, she found her movements momentarily arrested when she realized that perhaps, just perhaps, Grandma _had _known.

Grandma knew a lot of things that she never told anyone about. So perhaps she had known that this kind of power would eventually manifest itself. If Grandma had known, Momiji thought with a flash of irritation, the least she could have done was warn Momiji about it. Momiji's thoughts sputtered to a halt as she found herself once again standing on the edge of the pool. Without giving herself a chance to back out, she plunged her toes into the water and stood, her feet resting against the rocky bottom, feeling the warm currents soak through her pants and move around her ankles and shins in an almost caressing manner.

She slowly moved through the buoyant waves. The water around her legs seemed to propel her ever forward, and the little orbs of light bobbed and weaved around her head, floating away from her almost as if they knew they were in danger of colliding with her as she approached them. After a few feet, Momiji came to a stop, despite the insistent gentle push of the water that continued to urge her onwards. The tantou was now mere inches away from her, and it was glowing white again. Momiji could feel its raw energy pulsating against her legs, and something deep within her resisted picking it up, fearing the power flowing out of it, and the power that it was seeking.

Trying to dismiss her feelings as overactive imagination, she bent, her left hand convulsively clenching into a fist, and slid her right hand into the water to retrieve the blade. Just as her fingers curled around it, Momiji's head snapped up at the faint whisper of sound, like a high-pitched chirping, that began to fill the air, rising in intensity as she pulled the glowing blade free from the water.

The hilt on the tantou grew hot and began to vibrate, sending shockwaves through Momiji's hand and up her arm, and great beams of light shot out from the blade along with a sudden thrust of hot wind that whipped Momiji's hair away from her face and made her eyes water from the intensity of it. With a cry of fright, Momiji tried to let go of the knife, but her fingers remained fastened securely in place.

And the orbs that had been bobbing so slowly and gracefully only seconds before, began zooming around, their excited chirps growing louder and louder as they formed a loosely cohesive pattern that encircled the chamber. They moved with increasing velocity in a swirling ellipse that began to condense, coming closer and closer to Momiji's body, like a galaxy collapsing in on itself with Momiji as its center. Soon they had formed a churning vortex around her, moving with such force that her robe flapped violently around her legs and her hair whipped around her head, blinding her.

Momiji didn't have to see them to know that the orbs were pressing in on her, and she clenched her eyes shut in terror as their sound reached an almost unbearable keening. Again she tried to force her fingers to let go of the knife, and again she failed. Her hand remained stiffly outstretched in front of her and it ached from the amount of pressure that she was involuntarily exerting upon the hilt.

Someone, please help! Momiji silently cried.

Then the vortex exploded inwards, and the small spheres of light sank into Momiji's flesh, striking her like a thousands needles. She screamed, and in a gesture of self-defense tried to draw her body in on itself, but found that she couldn't move. A glow began to permeate the air around her and as the last of the spheres were absorbed into her, Momiji began to lose sense of her surroundings.

A myriad of voices began speaking in her mind, their sounds overlapping one another, whispering in a strange language she couldn't understand. And then she felt a tingling sensation along the back of her neck and she lost total control of body, listening in helpless incredulity as the whispering voices rose and combined with her own, ringing out in the surrounding stillness.

"_Hitoandi kaeru dota Anjin,_" she heard herself say loudly in a tone devoid of all inflection.

As she spoke, she felt her left hand rise, and her index and middle fingers lightly brushed against her lips before moving outward in a sweeping gesture in the air in front of her. Then her hand dropped to curl around the exposed blade that her right hand had raised in front of her face. The whispers became more insistent as she touched the tantou, and Momiji was unable to keep their words from becoming hers.

"_Ikutian alo sasaryu dego alo Athamos,_" her voice continued in the same, emotionless way, and she felt the blade bite into her fingers as she tightened her grip around the glowing steel.

Momiji was desperate to stop herself and yet she could do nothing, locked within her mind as a passive witness to the events that were unfolding. With a quick jerk, her hand slid upwards and the blade sliced open the skin of her palm and the bends of her fingers. Momiji tried to look down at the blood she could feel beginning to trickle down her wrist, but her eyes remained locked straight ahead. Then the whispers began again, and she gave voice to their words once more.

"_Desunde kaeru dota Samai._" Momiji could feel the beads of blood begin to shiver and tremble against her wrist growing in number, and another string of foreign words pushed passed her lips, "_Tionan sankaigiran endota alo hitora dego Ichija_."

Still not in control, Momiji's head dipped and her eyes finally focused on the crimson droplets pooling at her wrist. They began to elongate, pulled by the force of gravity and the voices began clamoring at a fever pitch. And even though she couldn't understand what they were saying, an overwhelming sense of terror began to fill her when she felt her lips begin to form the next words as the drops finally fell free, heading towards the water.

"_Ta Sonandiendo dego miesunde_ – " her voice began forcefully, and Momiji's knees began to tremble as she sensed something about to happen.

And then from the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of white cloth and a hand shot into view, catching the droplets of blood before they hit the water.

"Stop! Release her!" A familiar voice commanded and Momiji felt the Ceremonial Blade of Sacrifice being pried from her fingers.

The voices suddenly ceased, as if her link to them had been severed, and her body was once again her own. Finally free, Momiji took a great shuddering gasp of air, her body feeling extremely heavy.

"I am sorry Kushinada," came the soft apology of Lord Susano-oh.

The chokin scabbard was removed from in between her robe and belt and then Momiji heard the sound of a firm metal click as the blade was deposited back inside its scabbard. Swaying on her feet and feeling disoriented, Momiji turned her head and tried to focus on Susano-oh, whose dark eyes were staring at her, filled with concern.

"I did not know that it still existed," his soft voice echoed into her thoughts, and he put steadying hands to her shoulders as she started to fall backwards.

He gently pulled her up against his chest to keep her in an upright position, knowing that her confrontation with the Souls of the Blade had drained her.

"I thought the Blade had been destroyed. But now," Momiji vaguely heard him say as she struggled to pull herself together, her face nestled within the folds of his robes, "Now …. It could drastically change things. The pool of Restoration has modified its nature, allowing the Souls of the slain Kushinadas a moment of freedom and giving them a voice to express themselves. Not only that, but it appears that the Blade's power has intensified over the centuries. But it's dangerous to you, Kushinada, and I do not think that we can use it unless the Souls can be made to understand that the time of Sacrifice has changed, and that we seek to break the cycle. Otherwise, they will only consume you."

Carefully pushing her away from him, Susano-oh held Momiji at arms' length in front of him so he could stare down into her wide green eyes, a slight smile curving his lips. "Let us forget the Blade for a moment," he murmured, his hand coming up to gently cup her cheek in a paternal fashion, "You heart is troubled, and I can sense you came here seeking someone, did you not?"

With his words the walls of the iwatto began to dissolve away, replaced by the sound of water and a deep blue sky. A warm breeze caressed Momiji's cheek as Susano-oh stepped away from her and Momiji looked around herself. She was standing beside a lazy, babbling brook on the edge of a field of wildflowers, and a few feet away sat her sister in deep contemplation, a look of sadness on her face.

Momiji quietly approached and as her shadow fell across her sister, Kaede looked up in surprise, her eyes flitting quickly from Momiji to Susano-oh, who stood just behind her, and then back to Momiji again.

"Momiji," she mumbled, dumbfounded, "how…? What are you doing here?"

Momiji sank to her knees at her sister's side and earnestly replied, "I needed to see you."


	30. 29: Out of the Darkness

29. Out of the Darkness

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Kaede just stared at Momiji, unsure of what to say, and averted her gaze when she realized her sister was giving her a searching look. She ended up staring out across the gently swaying field of flowers, watching the pink and purple blossoms dance in the wind and tried to arrange her face into a suitably serene expression.

"It's beautiful here," Momiji began tentatively, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them, unsure how to begin what it was that she wanted to say.

"It isn't real," Kaede responded flatly and then inwardly cringed at how harsh she sounded. She should apologize, she silently chided herself, but she didn't. Instead she rose to her feet, her white robes falling gracefully around her lithe figure, and turned her back to her sister and her husband, who stood discreetly at a distance, watching the two sisters interact. "It's nothing more than dream; a picture that I have created to fill the dark void of this place," she explained, unable to keep a thread of bitterness from creeping into her voice as she waved her hand in front of her. "If I were to let go of the image, it would disappear and become nothing; swallowed up in the blackness of endless sleep." Kaede finished speaking and took a step into the flowers, watching their movement with sad eyes, remaining silent for a long moment before quietly adding, "This is the only way that I can… hang on to the memories of the things that I used to love about Japan; the only way I can get a glimpse of the things that inspired me to want to become - the Princess Kushinada." Again silence fell heavily between them, and Kaede let her dark head droop. Her green eyes wandered over the bright blossoms swaying around the white hem of her robe, mirroring more of her melancholy than ever before as she said softly, "But just because I can see them, doesn't make them real." And to demonstrate her point, she reached down as if to scoop up a handful of them, and her hand swept through them without disturbing them.

Momiji watched Kaede's actions, noting the stiff set of her sister's shoulders, and her eyes wandered to the silent figure of Susano-oh, seeking some sort of guidance from him. She had not expected to find Kaede this way, and was not sure what she should say to the despondent figure of her sister. Susano-oh returned her watchful gaze, his dark eyes steady as he gave her an enigmatic smile. And suddenly Momiji knew that he had brought her here, not just her sake, but for her sister's sake as well.

"I'm sorry, Kaede," she blurted out, not knowing how else to start. "If I hadn't failed you -"

Kaede turned, astonished at Momiji's words, "What are you talking about?" she gasped, interrupting Momiji before she could finish. She moved towards Momiji and cupped her sister's face in her hands; green searching green as she stared solemnly into the depths of Momiji's eyes. "You haven't failed me, Momiji," she reassured.

"But," Momiji began, her own eyes shimmering with her earnest distress as her fingers came up to curl around those of her sister's, "I can see that you – you're unhappy. If I hadn't failed to protect you at the iwatto, then perhaps you could have stayed with us – with me, and – Kusanagi - and Mom and Mr. Kunikida for a while."

Momiji's statement stopped Kaede in her tracks, an arrested expression on her face and she dropped her hands away from Momiji's face, emotionally retreating from Momiji's reach.

"What makes you think that I'm not happy?" she asked diffidently after a long moment. Her face assumed a blank expression as she shot a furtive glance beneath her lashes at Susano-oh, who stood vigilantly watching them, before she once again pinned her sister under her green stare and reverted the focus away from herself and back to her sister. 'You didn't fail me, Momiji. There was little that you could do to keep what happened from happening," she reiterated steadily, and then added in a stonier voice, "this is where my place is. I could never have stayed with you. Even if I hadn't misjudged Tamanasu's actions - which was _my _fault not yours - I would have returned here, regardless. This is where I belong. It is part of my destiny as the Princess Kushinada."

"But Kaede," Momiji argued, feeling the silent presence of Susano-oh urging her on, "why couldn't you have stayed for a little while? You had the crystal mitama…"

"Because, I don't belong to your world anymore!" Kaede replied her brows snapping into a line over her emerald eyes as she responded a little more sharply than she had intended. Closing her mouth with a snap, she clenched her hands into fists at her sides and strove to gain control of her more tumultuous emotions. "It is my duty to remain by Lord Susano-oh's side," she managed in a more dignified manner, echoing what she had thought to be true until recently, "and do what I can from here, just as it is your duty to safeguard those around you."

Momiji said nothing, but she bit her lip and stared at her sister's face and Kaede could see that she wanted to continue arguing with her over it. But Kaede was already tired of hearing it; not from Momiji, but from herself.

"Is that the only reason you came here, Momiji? To ask me to return?" Her voice rose uncontrollably, and she was unable to stop it, the center of her thoughts before her sister came, having been just that. "- There is precious little I can do from here!" she informed Momiji heatedly, "let alone if I were to return with you!" Kaede stopped and took a gulp of air, realizing that she was saying far more than she should.

Kaede was used to having responsibilities, used to being needed, having grown accustomed to the heavy mantle that she bore as the Princess Kushinada. But with the death of Hikaru, she had slowly come to realize that her role had become a limited one, for she had not been able to change the inevitable. And even within the layers of her own world, she was forced to acknowledge that fact as well, feeling herself increasingly distanced from Lord Susano-oh because of his continued trust in Murakumo, despite her voiced objections to the contrary.

There were no rituals for her to perform, no wisdom that she could impart to her husband, and she felt obsolete; useless and unnecessary, wondering why she was here, since Susano-oh no longer needed her assistance. For the first time since she had come here, she felt lost, and she had been struck by a sudden surge of homesickness. Right before Momiji had arrived, Kaede had been wishing that she _could _have stayed behind after the birth of Noa, wanting to feel needed in some way, like before. But she couldn't let Momiji know that, she told herself. Her sister had enough to worry about without adding herself to the list.

"From here, I at least can keep an eye on Mu – " she blurted out, but stopped suddenly, her green eyes flying to Lord Susano-oh's face when his voice rang her name out in warning. "Oh! I – I am sorry, My Lord," she murmured, "I should not have…"

Momiji watched in confusion as Kaede quickly dropped her head into a submissive pose, and Lord Susano-oh moved towards them, a stern expression in his eyes as he gazed at his wife. Momiji's head swiveled back and forth between the two, until she felt an urgent tug at the back of her mind, and her vision began to blur.

A few seconds later, Susano-oh's face swam into view as he bent over her and she heard him say as if from a distance, "You have brought to me understanding, Kushinada, and for that, I thank you. But now it's time for you to return." And then everything went black and she felt as if she was falling, the echo of his final words swirling around her in the darkness, "Someone is calling you."

Kaede watched her sister; the only small piece of reality within her world, slowly fade from view. And she was left standing alone amidst the swaying field of flowers and bright sunshine, with Lord Susano-oh just a few feet away, his back to her, still in the same position as before when he had freed Momiji from this place of dreams. He turned to face her after a few seconds, and Kaede hurriedly looked away from him, across the endless field. Tired of maintaining the façade, she let it slip away, the flowers turning ashen and the skies going grey. She closed her eyes to it, though, before it could completely vanish back into blackness, and heard Susano-oh's voice break through her thoughts.

"You may return, if that is what you truly desire," he murmured, "nothing is impossible. You have only but to ask it of me."

Kaede's eyes flew open at his words. They were meant to free her, offering her exactly what she thought she had wanted, and yet her heart twisted in her chest. What was it that she wanted, if not this? And then she knew. Him. It all came down to him, her love for him and the fact that she could not serve at his side the way she felt she ought to.

"You…?" she began, her voice quavering as tears crowded her throat, " - you wish me to leave?"

"I would never wish for such a thing," he denied vehemently.

She tightly clenched her hands together in front of her and stared off into the darkness. Then she felt something soft and velvety brush against her cheek and turned her head to see the petals of a purple blossom clutched between the fingers of her husband's hand. Her eyes dilated in surprise, becoming dark as she stared at the delicate bloom. She turned towards him and reached up, using a finger to trace the fragile petals, her eyes full of questions as they found his.

"Nothing is impossible," he murmured, his voice soft and melodic in her ears as he spoke aloud. "You have only but to ask it of me."

Kaede's eyes grew round as he finished speaking, for the blackness began to turn to grey and then was awash with color. She was once again standing in a field, but this time, it was a field of fragrantly sweet flowers, and the blue sky above was now warmed by the sun and filled with fluffy white clouds moved by a gentle breeze. It was real. All of it, and again Kaede's heart twisted in her chest at the depth and scope of her husband's power. What need did he have for a glorified human as a wife? And even though she might be the Princess Kushinada, she felt unworthy to stand by his side. Her bottom lip began to tremble and she tried to turn away from him to hide her anguish. But he wouldn't let her, his gentle fingers applying relentless pressure on her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"You cry," he said, his voice sounding distressed in the stillness as he let the purple blossom flutter to the ground. "Tell me why." And when she said nothing, a small frown knit his brow and he murmured, sounding aggrieved, "do you wish to return to your father and sister that much?"

"No!" She exclaimed, "I do not belong there!" She wrenched away from him and took a few halting steps forwards, numbly noticing that the wildflowers rasped against her robes as she brushed past them. "But I do not belong here either!" she concluded miserably in a softer way.

"I see you have forgotten what you vowed you would not," he chided softly against her ear as he stepped closer to her, refusing to let her retreat.

"Forgotten?" she mumbled, her fingers intertwined in front of her as she twisted them together fretfully, the persuasive beauty of his voice beckoning to her even as she tried to steel herself against its power.

Susano-oh put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned closer to her, his breath brushing against the curve of her neck as he whispered into her ear, " You told me that your place was here with me." His fingers tightened on her shoulders. "And yet I feel you drifting farther and farther away. Why, Kaede?"

"Because I do not understand you!" she replied tightly, "I do not understand why… you put your faith in Murakumo! And because I cannot understand your will, I have become useless to you. What meaning is there in my existence here if I can only sit and helplessly watch as the future is shaped? I can offer you nothing of value, do nothing but voice my fears that serve to oppose the resolution of your will. I know they are not worthy of merit and should be brushed aside, and yet, they are all I have to contribute – a poor offering far beneath your contempt! So what does that leave me? What do I have left to give you?" she railed "- I thought it was the Princess Kushinada's role to stand by you, to become one with your will, and yet I have failed at that!"

She felt his fingers slide through her hair as he stepped around in front of her, drawing her face closer to his. Before she could protest he pressed his lips against hers in a possessive kiss and Kaede felt a sense of urgency in his embrace as he held her tightly against him, his mouth sliding over hers again and again until, when she could no longer breathe, he set her free.

"You are so young, Kaede," he told her in his exquisitely melodic voice, his eyes full of tenderness as he brushed his fingers against her face, "and yet I have waited many lifetimes for you." Kaede didn't know what to say, and so she just stared up at him, watching as shadows of the past replayed themselves in his eyes. "In the age of Legend, the first Kushinada became my wife. She was young, too. Like you. But it wasn't long before she became disconsolate, being separated from the rest of her family. She begged for me to let her return, and so I sent her home, where she eventually met and married a human. And thus, began the long line of your descendants."

Kaede took a deep breath, a bewildered expression on her face. "I do not understand – " she began and he silenced her with yet another kiss, this one soft and lingering; not as deep as the first, but just as possessive in its own way.

"I do not remember her name, Kaede," he whispered into her ear after his lips left hers, his arms wrapping around her as he pressed his face against the curve of her neck. "- Or the color of her eyes, or the sound of her voice. Perhaps that is wrong, but as time passed, I found that I did not care that I couldn't remember. That she was a passing memory with a lasting legacy was what was important to me. – And then you were born. How fortunate for me that you also happened to be among the Kushinada."

"But, I thought…" she began tremulously and in a muffled way, her faced pressed snuggly against Susano-oh's chest.

"That you were the reincarnation of the first Kushinada?" he asked, amusement lacing the music of his words. "No, Kaede. You are much stronger than she was. – You eclipse her, casting the pale shadow of her memory into further darkness as you have brought light to my world." The continued sound of his voice, and the feel of his arms around her began to heal the rift that she had allowed to grow between them, and she felt some of the tightness around her heart lessen. She clutched at him, her fingers twisting the fabric of his robes so tightly that she thought she might rip them. "Do you think I would demand that you sacrifice your mind and your heart? To become a puppet to do my bidding, with no thoughts and feelings of your own? Why should I wish for such a thing when all I want is to shape this world for you?" So saying he released her to reach down and pick a handful of flowers offering the pink and purple blossoms to her, his eyes steadily offering her something else. "I will love you for always, my sweet Kaede. Please tell me what it is you desire that will keep you by my side, and keep you from drifting away from me, for I cannot bear to lose you."

Kaede blinked her eyes, unable to see him properly through the blur of her tears. "I – I," she stammered through trembling lips, "I only wish to be your Princess Kushinada, that's all."

"You will always be the world's Princess Kushinada. But to me, you are more than that. You are my Kaede," he endeared to her softly, moving towards her and placing the blossoms in her hands, his fingers folding around hers at the same time. Kaede stared blindly at their combined hands and said nothing for a moment.

"But my lord -" she gulped, a single tear sliding free and splashing against his hand as she attempted one last effort to make him understand that she had failed in her duties as his wife.

"Do you love me, Kaede?" he asked her.

"Yes," she answered without hesitating, her heart clearly reflected in her eyes as they finally rose back to his face.

"Even when you cannot understand why I have placed my trust in the Prince of Aragami?" he further challenged.

"Yes," came her answer almost before he finished speaking.

"There is nothing greater that the Princess Kushinada can do for her lord than to offer him this. There is nothing more that I would ask of Kaede than her love, for that is what makes this unending sleep bearable for me." His hands finally left hers to rest feather light against her cheeks and he entreated once again, "Please, Kaede, tell me how to keep you by my side."

Finally she gave him a smile. "When you speak to me, I find that I cannot stray too far," she teased breathlessly, "for your voice is so beautiful and I would miss it if I were to leave."

"Then, for you," he told her, his lips curling into a smile as he spoke, "my voice shall speak my thoughts, if it is siren's song that calls you to me. But not now," he teased in return, his smile taking on a slightly seductive twist. He trailed his fingers away from her face, down her shoulders and around her back, letting them slide downwards until they were resting against her hips. Then he pulled her up against him and leaned forward, his eyes sliding to her sweet smile. "Right now I find that I prefer to use my lips for something that requires your participation as well."

Kaede wrapped her arms around Susano-oh's waist, angling her face upwards to meet his, the last remnants of her sadness fading in her husband's warm embrace.

Momiji thought she heard Kusanagi's voice through the darkness surrounding her. It sounded so far away at first, but it was getting louder with each passing moment, as was an uncomfortable sensation that she couldn't place at first. But as Kusanagi's voice grew louder and more insistent, Momiji began to realize what it was she felt. She was being shaken; rather viciously too, her stiff body protesting vehemently through sharp jabs of pain each time she was snapped first forward then backwards.

She opened her eyes, his name passing her lips in the form of a croak, but he didn't seem to have heard her, for the shaking continued and she was forced to squawk loudly, "Stop! Stop! Before you shake my eyeballs out!"

The jarring ceased then, Kusanagi's hands releasing her, and Momiji let out a relieved sigh, closing her eyes on the wave of dizziness that assailed her at the abrupt cessation of motion. She felt herself suddenly veer backwards and heard Kusanagi swear loudly as he watched her slow tumble towards the water.

"Dammit, Momiji!" he hissed at her, his fists catching her by the front of her robes and hauling her back to a standing position before pulling her cold body up against his and wrapping his arms securely around her. "Are you all right?" he asked her after a moment, his anger mingling with his concern as he felt her nod into his chest. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, and remarked accusingly before she could reply, "I thought I told you to wait for me at home."

Momiji gently pushed away from him, and peered up at his stern expression through the dimness of the iwatto, the light from before, gone. "I know," she replied, a note of apology in her voice. "And I would have waited," she told him haltingly, having difficulty concentrating. She put her hand to her forehead as she fought to pull her jumbled thoughts together. "But Ryoko called this morning about Kaede and the murders in Tokyo and telling Mom - and I couldn't tell her no, you see?" she babbled incoherently while Kusanagi just looked at her, helplessly lost.

He stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, and then demanded, "What!? What the hell does that have to do with why you're standing here, half dressed staring off into space – " he broke off as she dropped her hand away from her face, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at her.

Momiji watched him study her, giving him a questioning look as he put his finger out and trailed it across her forehead. Then he pulled back and brought his hand up in front of his face, transferring his gaze to it, and his eyes narrowed even further.

"You're bleeding," he muttered, and grabbed her hand, looking at the slashes across her fingers and the long one across her palm. Then he bent down and scooped up a handful of water and poured it over her hand, gently washing the blood away. "What the heck have you been doing!?"

Kusanagi watched Momiji pull her hand away from him and turn it over to look at it as if she was seeing it for the first time. "It was the Ceremonial Blade of Sacrifice," she muttered absently, her other hand going to her waist before she muttered, "… Susano-oh took it." And then she glanced at Kusanagi, who was still staring at her as if she'd lost her mind, "I came here to talk to Kaede," she told him, and watched as understanding flashed across his face, his anger rapidly dwindling away.

"Did you find her?" he quietly asked, and then after she slowly nodded, "and did she tell you what you needed to know - that there was nothing you could have done?" And again she slowly nodded, but instead of looking relieved, her expression became troubled, her green eyes glinting solemnly up at him.

"I'm worried about her, Kusanagi," she murmured, biting her lip, "she was so…. sad, and I felt – like she was drifting and lost. I wanted to help her, but…" she stopped, recalling Susano-oh's last words to her and she perceived that he too was aware that Kaede had been drifting.

"You shouldn't be worrying about Kaede, Momiji," he told her softly, again reaching down into the water and then grasping her chin and angling her face up so he could brush away the smear of blood her hand had left on her forehead with his wet fingertips. "I think that Susano-oh can take of her without any help from us." As he worked his eyes drifted over her expression and he could see that she wanted to believe him, and he allowed himself a small smile as he finally let go of her chin, satisfied now that the blood was gone. "And besides, just as you insightfully pointed out to me last night, he _is _a god –" He pretended not to notice the flood of color that stained Momiji's cheeks at the mention of the previous night, barely pausing before adding, "so I doubt that he will allow Kaede to be unhappy for too long."

"I suppose you're right," Momiji replied in a subdued way after a moment of consideration. "I know that he cares deeply for her, and that she feels the same way –" she stopped what she was saying as if she just realized he was standing in the pool next to her, her eyes trailing downwards to see the long tails of his coat billowing out in the water and the faded color of his jeans darkened by the water saturating them. With a look of dismay, she exclaimed, "Kusanagi! Your coat!" and then wordlessly pointing, " – and your jeans! You're soaking wet!"

Kusanagi snorted at her belated observances and crossed his arms in front of him. "No wetter than you, Princess," he retorted wryly.

"But, you shouldn't have come into the water like that," she protested, still staring at the sodden tails of his coat.

"Did you expect me to remove my pants??" and at her embarrassed look added, "I didn't think so. Besides, you gave me little choice," he informed her in a seething way, "since you weren't coming out. And at least I remembered to take my shoes off before coming in to get you." As he finished speaking, he leaned forward, scooping her up despite her protests that she could walk, and waded through the water, back towards the ledge of the pool. "Now," he grunted as he deposited her on dry ground and climbed up after her, "suppose you tell me just exactly why you didn't wait for me, and what happened to your hand."

"Well," Momiji bit her lip and looked from him to the black water of the pool, wondering if he would believe her, especially since she found it difficult to believe herself. After a deep breath she launched into her tale, beginning with Ryoko's phone call and ending with her encounter with Kaede. Through it all, he just stood there listening intently, his face showing none of the alarm he felt when she talked about what had happened with the Ceremonial Blade of Sacrifice.

"Where is the Blade now?" he wanted to know when she finished.

"Lord Susano-oh must have kept it," she mused, "because I don't have it anymore. I wonder if Grandma knew what it was capable of."

"I doubt it," Kusanagi replied speculatively, stepping over to the ledge where the solar mirror sat, turning and pulling himself up into a sitting position next to the neat pile of her clothes and sliding his shoes back on. "If Susano-oh wasn't aware of its true potential power, then surely your grandmother couldn't have known. - I'm not saying that she didn't know that it held a special power," he amended as an afterthought, knowing that the little woman always seemed to know something about everything, "but I doubt she would have given it to you if she had known what would've happen when you dropped it into the pool."

Momiji nodded in agreement, silently mulling it over in her head as Kusanagi reached over, finally finished with his shoes, and picked up her clothes, holding them out to her. Momiji took them from him and stood there holding them, looking at him expectantly.

He quirked a brow at her and asked, "Aren't you going to get dressed?"

"Aren't you going to wait outside?" came her flippant response.

"No," was his dry reply.

"Why not?" she demanded, her brows snapping together over eyes that still managed to sparkle despite the lack of sunlight.

"After what's happened here, you can still ask me that, Momiji?" He raised disbelieving eyebrows at her and she made a frustrated noise. "Why are you getting so upset?" he couldn't resist adding, "It's not like I haven't already seen your b –"

"Mamoru Kusanagi!" Momiji screeched, her face filling with hectic color, mortified beyond words that he would bring that up.

"Er, all right, all right," he said, trying to hide his amusement at her overabundant modesty. He lazily motioned to the mirror then and said in an offhand manner, "If it makes you feel better, why don't you douse the light and then get dressed."

Momiji's eyes slid from him to the mirror, a petulant frown marring her expression.

"It's all you're gonna get Princess," he told her, unrelenting, "Because I'm not leaving this cave without you."

"All right, fine," she huffed sourly and stalked over to the mirror, turning it with a jerk and immediately plunging them into darkened silence.

Momiji put her clothes back on the ledge next to Kusanagi so she could unknot the belt to her robes, and as she did so, her hand brushed up against the warmth of his knee. He didn't say anything as she quickly pulled away, disconcerted, and began pulling at the knot. After a few moments of protracted silence, she heard the sound of low, soft laughter.

"Are you having difficulties, Momiji?" he asked quizzically, the darkness doing nothing to hide the amusement in his voice.

"No!" she muttered resentfully, her eyes shooting daggers at the spot where his voice came from, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

She went back to work on the knot after his murmured, "Just checking." And then after a few more moments of unproductive struggle, he once again broke the silence by saying, " - Because it seems to me that you're having trouble," his tone no less amused this time than the last.

"And why would you think that?" she tossed back, jerking hard at the knot, staring down into the darkness where she knew it would be and silently willing it to give up its unholy clench.

"Well, because I don't hear anything remotely like the sound of rustled clothing – only your heavy breathing from the effort you seem to be putting into removing them."

Momiji's head whipped up at that, and her fingers quit tugging. "I am NOT breathing heavily!" she was stung into retorting and then growled when he chuckled. "The knot is stuck, you fathead!"

"Well then, why don't you let me help you," he murmured, the sound of laughter mingling with his amusement. "Otherwise we might be here all day."

Then she felt something cold and wet bump into her hip, and she let out a squeak, frightened until she realized it was his leg. He had brought it up and hooked it around her, using it to propel her in his direction. She shuffled her feet, moving awkwardly in the darkness as he applied pressure against her, and then felt his hands grab her by the arms when she came within reaching distance. He pulled her closer, his inner thighs resting on either side of her body, lightly brushing against her hips, and she felt his fingers loosen their hold on her arms; but he didn't let go. Instead, he let them drift inwards to rest against her ribcage and then downwards, following the curve or her body until he came to her belt where he stopped.

Momiji knew that he had only touched her to find the belt because he couldn't see it. But that didn't stop her from losing her breath all the same. And if he were to accuse her of breathing heavily at that particular moment, she knew he would be right. She tried to hold it to keep the rapid flutter of it from breaking the stillness around them while he worked at the knot, and at the same time did her level best to ignore the feel of his legs touching her. Amazingly enough, she succeeded; but only because she suddenly realized she could feel the warmth of his breath falling across her cheek.

Momiji was then assailed by the sudden urge to lean forward, just a little, knowing that if she did, her lips would most likely brush against his. Such thoughts set her on fire, and she closed her eyes as the heat began to burn in the pit of her stomach and spread slowly outwards. At that point, she gave up trying to regulate her breathing, knowing that she would pass out from lack of oxygen if she held it any longer.

"There," Kusanagi said abruptly and the cord around her waist hung loose.

The dangerous urges began to fade as he leaned back and she was no longer able to feel his breath again her cheek. She drew in a shaky breath and slowly let it out trying to regain her composure and then stiffened as Kusanagi's right leg pressed hard against her, and she wondered if he was trying to drive her insane.

"Here," he said, and Momiji felt her shirt and bra shoved into her stomach as the pressure of his thigh against her eased up again.

She automatically reached up to take them from him. "Thanks," she mumbled and then, with nowhere to put them while she removed her robe, she handed them right back to him, saying, "can hold these for a second?"

"Er… I guess," he replied and then swiftly changed the course of the conversation, wanting to talk to her about Midori. "Momiji, I need…to…." he stopped abruptly and Momiji wondered why as she pulled opened the front of her robe and slid it off her shoulders before neatly folding it up.

"You need to… what?" she prompted as she put a tentative hand out in front of her until she felt it brush against the soft cotton of his black t-shirt. Then she transferred her robes to that hand and pushed them up against him. He in turn, took them from her and stuck her shirt and her bra into her questing hand. "You need to what?" she prompted again as she slid her arms into her bra and then reached around to fasten it.

"To-o-o," he drawled, his sudden loss for words baffling her. Mentally shrugging her shoulders she pulled her shirt on and reached for the first button, freezing in place as he apparently found what it was he wanted to say after clearing his throat several times, "to talk - I need to talk to you."

Momiji's heart quit beating inside of her chest and her mouth went dry, her mind immediately flying to earlier this morning when he had said those exact same words in regards to what had happened between them the night before.

Now? He wanted to talk to her now? she panicked.

"Do you think that now is really a good time?" she hedged, desperate to delay him for just a while longer. Her fingers were suddenly shaking so hard that she had difficulty sliding the next few buttons into place, so she stopped. "I mean, I – that is, we – really need to go and pick up Noa, and I, I… you, you… and besides I didn't really mean - "

Kusanagi listened to her nervous chatter for several seconds and then rolled his eyes. "It's about Midori, Momiji," he managed to insert over the mumbled excuses she was making so that she finally stopped and drew in a long breath.

"Midori?" She stared into the darkness, feeling relieved and puzzled at the same time.

"I saw her today," he informed her quietly.

"You did?" she gasped, "where? Where was she?"

"She was Ise," he further imparted, adding, "but I imagine that by now she's back in Tokyo."

"What were you doing in Ise?" Momiji wanted to know. Her mind flitted in a hundred different directions and before he could even respond to her first question, she rapidly added, "How did you find her? And why hasn't she told anyone where she is?"

"Midori found me. I didn't find her. Why she didn't tell anyone where she was; well your guess is as good as mine - As for why I was in Ise," he continued reluctantly, "I – was looking for something – someone."

"Who?" Momiji continued to inquire intently.

It was Kusanagi's first inclination not to tell her yet, since he couldn't be sure. But he decided, after a moment's hesitation, that it would be best if she knew. Especially since he wanted her to try and find out what it was Midori was hiding.

"I was looking for Orochi – or Murakumo – I can't really be certain which," he began slowly, "but I am fairly certain that I sensed one or the other last night. "

There was a long moment of silence while Momiji absorbed the information. "What do you suppose that means?" Momiji asked him worriedly.

"I'm not sure what you're asking," he replied cautiously.

"Well," Momiji ruminated, while her fingers absently twisted one of the remaining buttons that she had yet to push into place. "You don't suppose that Noa's birth reacted as a catalyst - the same as when Kaede and I were born do you? To reawaken the Aragami?"

Kusanagi grimaced through the darkness as she managed to hit upon the one possibility that he had been unable to completely banish from his mind, try as he might.

"No," he responded flatly anyway, trying to convince her as well as himself that this couldn't happen. "When you and Kaede were born, the Aragami were awakened because the strength of the flow in the Kushinada bloodline had been weakened. Noa isn't a Kushinada so how could his birth reawaken the entire species."

"I suppose you're right," Momiji conceded, continuing to yank and twist the button even more as she stared sightlessly into the darkness in front of her, "But still –"

"M-m-momiji," Kusanagi began reluctantly, and then ended up by trailing off with, "you're going to…"

"Hmm?" she asked, her fingers pausing as she waited for Kusanagi to finish what he was saying.

She heard him grunt and then he muttered, "Never mind. What were you going to say?"

Trying to recall what she had been thinking, she started in with the button again as her thoughts raced ahead of her and she finally gave voice to her speculations. "If Noa is impervious to the power of the Kushinada, like you, then don't you think it might be possible for some of that power to carry over to the rest of the Aragam – oh!" Momiji exclaimed, and jerked in surprise when the button shot off her shirt and headed for the floor. She flung her hand out in reflex trying to catch it, knowing that it was a wasted effort since there was no way that she could catch something that she couldn't see. A split second later there was a thin, scrabbling sound as the button hit the rock floor and spun like a coin.

Kusanagi gave a martyred sigh. "Could you please just finish dressing before you manage to yank the rest of the buttons off as well, Momiji? And then we'll finish this conversation."

"How…? How did you know that I lost a button?" Momiji asked in an odd sort of voice.

"Huh?" came the sound of Kusanagi's startled voice, "well, I… heard it hit the floor."

"But how did you know it was my button?" Momiji wanted to know, wondering if his cat-like eyes could see her through the darkness.

There was a long pause and then he answered matter of factly, "What else could it be, Princess?" Momiji let it drop for the moment as he again prodded her, "If you'll hurry up, we can turn the mirror and look for your, er, button, while we finish talking."

Momiji quickly finished with her shirt and tucked it into her pants, lamenting the fact that the button she lost had been right in the middle, so that she now had a nice gaping hole level with her navel. She patted her stomach, trying to flatten it down, but it didn't help. She could still feel the cool air of the iwatto brush against her skin.

"Are you finished yet," Kusanagi asked her impatiently.

His voice jarred her into motion. "Yes," she mumbled, turning to walk over to the ledge and reached for the mirror.

"You know, Princess," she heard him remark in a sly voice as she adjusted the lens for maximum affect, "I must say, I'm surprised that there were no cute and fuzzy animals on your… bra, since you seem to favor them on your other, er undergarments."

Momiji whipped around and stared at him, her eyes rounded in dismayed surprise. Her hands flew up to her chest in belated reaction as the suspicion that he could see without the aid of light bore fruit. "I thought you said you couldn't see in the dark," she accused, pointing to the mirror.

Kusanagi's teeth flashed brightly as he gave her a devilish smile. "No," he corrected her dryly, "what I said was, if it made you feel better, you could turn the mirror. I never said that I couldn't see in the dark."

Momiji balled her hands into fists and stalked stiffly over to him, glaring at him. He just laughed at her and pushed off of the ledge, landing on his feet, his eyes glued to the sparkle in her eyes. He probably shouldn't have said anything, but he couldn't pass the up the chance to tease her just a little bit.

"Relax, Princess, I didn't see anything" he lied, thinking it was best to try and soothe her if he wanted to try and get back to their serious conversation of earlier.

"Then how did you know?" she demanded furiously.

"Easy," he grinned, pointing to the ledge next to the mirror, "I saw it sitting over there, on top of your shirt earlier."

Momiji's face momentarily froze and then assumed a sheepish expression. "Oh."

Kusanagi chucked softly before he turned and bent down, and Momiji watched him pick up her lost button without even having to search for it. He handed it to her and she took it from him, her gaze flitting suspiciously from it to his face. He just gave her an innocent look and she looked away, tucking the button into her pocket.

"Back to what I was saying earlier, Momiji, about Midori," he began seriously, and again her eyes settled on his face, but this time, she gave him her undivided attention. "I was at the iwatto in Ise when she found me. She said she had come back there to look for her things, but she was acting very strangely."

"How?"

"I think she lied to me about what she saw the day she was attacked," he conceded.

"But why would she lie to you?" Momiji asked, perplexed as to why he would think such a thing.

Kusanagi sighed and stared over her head, remembering the look of panic on Midori's face. "She wasn't acting like herself," he explained, "she was – nervous, and tried to avoid talking about what happened to her. She seemed eager to get away from me too, until I mentioned Noa. She seemed to have already known about him." Momiji's mouth fell open at this piece of information. "That's why I need you to try and talk to her. Get her to tell you what happened to her at the iwatto that day. She wouldn't tell me, but you're her best friend. So she might tell you. It's important, Momiji. I can't help feeling that there is some tie to the presence that I felt and what happened to her. "

Kusanagi looked at her expectantly and Momiji responded appropriately by saying, "I'll do my best to find out for you, Kusanagi. I'll call her after we pick up Noa, which we're already late for," she noted as she looked at her watch. "I also need to stop at a department store and pick up some… things," she mumbled as an afterthought, remembering that she needed some underwear, since all of hers had mysteriously vanished.

She gave Kusanagi a speculative look, once again wondering if he could have anything to do with their disappearance, but she brushed the thought aside as he told her, "I'm ready, if you are."

Momiji nodded, grabbing her coat, and Kusanagi helped her into it. Then she turned the solar mirror, and the iwatto was once again thrown into darkness. She turned and looked up, the only light now coming from the rectangular entrance at the top of the stairs. She had just taken a step forwards when she felt Kusanagi's fingers on her arm pull her to a stop. She found herself swung around and then propelled forward as he grabbed the lapels to her coat, dragging her towards him.

Before she knew what was happening, he had crushed her body against his and molded his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Momiji eagerly opened her mouth under the insistent pressure of his and succumbed to the liquid heat that flared out of control as the velvety tip of his tongue slid against hers, tasting her, teasing her. She wrapped her arms around him in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him, wanting it to go on forever. But all too soon, he was pulling away from her, holding her within the loose circle of his arms.

Both of them were breathing heavily, and they stood there for a moment, neither willing to break the silence.

The Kusanagi leaned forward, his lips grazing her forehead and whispered in a husky voice, "The next time I ask you to wait for me, Momiji, please do it – there was something very important I needed to talk to you about, and now I'll have to wait much longer than I care to…"


	31. 30: Brewing Trouble

Chapter 30 Brewing Trouble

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY

Sakura sauntered down the empty hallway, her hips swaying provocatively within the confines of her mini-skirt with every step of her spiked, three-inch, heels. Languidly she smoothed red-lacquered fingertips through the silky, soft tresses of her sandy blonde hair and then let them continue to glide their way downward, along her neck and across her clingy, peach sweater and equally skin tight skirt, making sure that everything was impeccably arranged. She knew she looked good; better than most girls could ever dream of looking, and a smug smile inched across her face, crinkling the freckles sprinkled across her nose and putting a feline sparkle in her crimson eyes.

And yet, there was still that pang of regret, that little splinter of – a shudder ran up her spine as the word lodged itself into her thoughts and refused to be nudged aside – "humiliation" - from yesterday's events. Her smile was quickly snuffed out and a look of raw determination took its place. Yesterday was why she had taken such care with her appearance today: to make sure that no one was left to doubt that she was the most delectable, the most perfectly _perfect _female within a hundred miles.

Stopping in front of the TAC lab door, Sakura let a sultry look slide into place over her features, preparing for her grand entrance. Then, reaching a hand out, she grasped the handle and turned, a look of consternation widening her eyes when nothing happened.

What the!? she thought frustrated, jiggling the handle of the door, her lips losing their pouty expression as they pulled into a toothy grimace.

The door was locked! That meant no one was here yet! Damn!! She thought, a little black cloud beginning to form over her head where some very nasty words where beginning to coalesce into a bad temper. With a stomp of her well-shod foot she let the handle go, expelled a gusty sigh and scrunched her face into a horrific scowl.

Violently stuffing her hand into her purse, she dug around for her keys, her teeth flashing white as her mouth got thinner and tighter, and her ever-volatile temper soured, becoming blacker and more sullen. After several seconds of pawing around, she managed to locate them. She yanked them out to sort through them, muttering thickly under her breath all the while, since she was unsure of which one was the right one.

Normally, knowing which key she needed wasn't a problem, since the only one she ever used was the one for her apartment. But along with that one useful key, she had fifteen others that she never used – one of which happened to be her office key. And since she wasn't accustomed to being the first one into the office - ever – she had never used it before, so she wasn't sure what it looked like. She supposed she wouldn't have this problem if she had just gotten rid of all the old ones from ex-boyfriends, but she had held onto them for sentimental reasons -– to her, they were the perfect silver, ermine pelt that every hunter sought – the trophy that declared she was desired by many; and the symbol of her many conquests. And besides that, she thought ironically, she had never thought that she would live to see the day that she would be the first one into the office. Things like this just weren't supposed to happen she noted nonsensically.

After several unsuccessful attempts, Sakura finally found the correct key and it slammed unexpectedly into the lock. Not quite ready for it, her movements were more than careless, and her inattention caused her to break one of her beautifully manicured nails in the process. A screech of dismay shattered the stillness of the corridor, reverberating off of the barren walls as she looked down at the mangled, crimson crescent that hung, dangling awkwardly, from the tip of her finger.

With a feminine growl, she ripped it off and threw it to the ground, yanking the door open and stomping through it, her earlier aura of total control and sexual grace ripped to shreds. With hunched shoulders, she steamed across the empty room, throwing her purse onto the desk and then slinging herself into the high-backed leather chair behind it. She fumed silently for a few minutes and looked impatiently at her watch.

It was a quarter to one, so where the heck was everybody? she thought petulantly. Shifting restlessly, she perched on the edge of the brown leather chair, her elbows resting laxly on the laminated wooden surface of the desk. Steepling her hands together, she impatiently tapped the tips of her two index fingers together.

This sucks! she silently seethed, looking resentfully at the empty doorway before her crimson eyes flickered back to the desk and settled on the empty coffee cup placed neatly to one side. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and she reached out and she snatched it up, looking down at the shiny, ceramic bottom. It was clean, thank god. Pushing the chair away from the desk, she stood and sauntered over to the sink.

At least she could make herself a cup of coffee while she waited for someone to get there, she thought consolingly. Grabbing a spoon from a drawer, she foraged around, trying to locate something that was a closer resemblance to coffee than the bright yellow and aqua green chemical crystals that were stored in the glass jars inside the cupboards above the sink. After checking all of them and coming up empty, she moved on to the stainless steel canisters lined up against the wall next to the sink. They were labeled 'transfer pads', 'capillary tubes' and 'cytology brushes' respectively, but peering into each one, Sakura found tea in the first, sugar in the second and in the last, coffee.

Sakura snorted derisively and grabbed the coffee canister, wondering if Matsu was as odd about where she kept her food at her own house as she was about where she kept it here. Flicking a sandy lock over her shoulder, Sakura turned and looked for the coffee maker. It was nowhere to be found, and after a few minutes of searching, she belatedly recollected that the crazed scientist, Matsu, brewed her coffee using her lab equipment.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, she grabbed the canister with one hand and cradled it against her breast while she scooped up her coffee cup with the other. Swiveling around, she made her way over to the long stainless steel lab table cluttered with scientific equipment. As she came to a slow stop, Sakura let her eyes travel down its crowded length, noting the various beakers, Bunsen burners, test tube racks and complicated looking electronic testers. She faintly wondered just exactly which one of these devices was used for something like brewing coffee. Setting the canister on the edge of the table, Sakura ran curious fingers along several different devices, and after sniffing the contents of various beakers and flasks, she managed to find what was the oddest coffee pot she had ever seen. It wasn't really a coffee pot at all, but more of a large beaker with a glass funnel at the top and a hollow glass pipe that ran up the side to allow the heated water to rise through it and percolate through the ground coffee beans before draining back down into the wide of body of the beaker.

Sakura carried it over to the sink, rinsed it out, filled it with water and then carried it back to the table, heading for the ceramic topped hot plate that she had seen Matsu use on several occasions to heat her solutions to high temperatures. There was already a flask of viscous looking solution sitting on it, and her lip curled in distaste as she briefly studied it. It had a layered look to it, the top part dark green in color and the bottom part, which was clearer, glowed a phosphorescent yellow. It was highly unusual looking, but Sakura wasn't all that impressed and decided to ignore it for the moment, searching instead for the switch that would turn the hotplate on.

With a meditative _hmm_, she sat the coffee pot next to the hot plate and looked at all the dials and switches. She pressed a few and nothing happened.

"Why can't they just put a label next to the stupid 'power' button?" she muttered tersely to herself, slapping at a few more.

She continued randomly punching buttons and twisting knobs and was about to give up when a little red light on the front came on. Her crimson eyes lit with triumph and her mouth curled into a self-satisfied smile.

"You are _so_ brilliant, Sakura," she softly crooned, her moment of gloating interrupted by the chirp of the phone. She moved to the end of the lab table and grabbed up the sleek black handset, momentarily forgetting about the hot plate.

"Sakura? Is Kome and Yaegashi there yet?" Matsu's voice asked her.

"No," she replied succinctly.

There was a slight pause and then, "How about Momiji and Kusanagi?"

"No," Sakura replied again, this time more sulkily, "no one is here but me. Come to think of it, why aren't you here?"

Sakura could hear the sound of a few choice words muttered under breath that ended with what sounded suspiciously like, "Why me?" But before she could voice any objections to such ill treatment, Matsudaira continued. "Sakura, I'm in Tokyo because my son was involved in a school stabbing – he's just been released from intensive care and should be out of the hospital by the end of the week. But even so, it looks like I won't be returning to Izumo any time in the near future."

"Oh?" Sakura mouthed, meeting this piece of information with an apathetic sigh, and giving it all the attention she felt it deserved by examining her cuticles. She admired their healthy condition, marveling at their uniform perfection, despite her broken fingernail. "Well, where is everyone else then?" she inquired without any real interest

"Mr. Kunikida, Ryoko and Sugishita are here with me in Tokyo. And Mr. Kunikida wants you to come back here along with Kome and –" Matsu broke off momentarily unable to speak over the loud howling coming from the other end of the line.

Sakura abandoned her ennui of the moment and held the receiver over her head in a triumphant pose, dancing around for a few seconds before she brought it back down and put it against her ear.

" – _listening to me_!?" Matsu was demanding in an irked voice.

"Yes, yes," Sakura replied in an happy way, "I heard you, you said that I was to return to Tokyo."

There was the sound of an impatient sigh escaping from Matsu's lips and then, "That's not all that I said, Sakura. Would you please try to listen more carefully?" and after Sakura's uncharacteristically mellow but affirmative reply, added, "Mr. Kunikida needs Kome and Yaegashi to return to Tokyo immediately as well, but Momiji and Kusanagi are to stay in Izumo for the time being – for the safety of the baby. There have been a large number of Tengugaki attacks here in Tokyo and bringing Noa here would only increase the danger to him.

"Tell Momiji that the fortified formula that I began making still isn't ready. I began titrating it before I left. But it's still in an unstable, extremely volatile state – what remains will most likely have to be thrown out anyway, since Sugishita couldn't keep his fingers out of it - So she is to just give him regular baby formula in the meantime. It won't hurt him. It just won't have the potassium phosphate in it that I was hoping would help to boost his system and make sure that he is able to efficiently convert sunlight into energy like normal Aragami do – he probably doesn't really need it, but I had wanted to provide it for him anyway, since we know almost nothing about how his circulatory and nervous systems function…

"So tell Momiji…. _Are you listening to me, Sakura?_" Matsu demanded sharply, the other end of the line having gotten too quiet for her liking.

"- Eh yes, of course," Sakura replied hastily, trying to reign in her thoughts of Vuitton handbags and Louis Féraud haute couture, knowing that she wouldn't have the money to spend on her wardrobe anytime soon anyway. Still, she refused to let a small thing like being stone broke douse the warm glow she was currently experiencing at the thought of returning to Tokyo, the mecca of civilized living. "You want me to tell Kome and Yaegashi to return to Tokyo and to tell Momiji that she is to stay here with the sprout until further notice."

"And Kusanagi, too, Sakura," Matsu reminded and Sakura snorted.

"Do you really think that Carrot Boy would be leaving without Momiji?" she asked wryly. "I really don't think that would ever happen; even if the gods themselves commanded it."

"Regardless of what you think," Matsu countered sternly, "I would appreciate it if you would try and remember what I have told you. – and don't forget about the baby formula!"

"I won't. Jeez! You think I can't remember something as simple as that?" Sakura defended waspishly, silently trying to hang onto the quickly disappearing wisps of what it was that Matsu had been babbling about regarding the formula as Sakura had been mulling over her glorious return to Tokyo.

"Well, that's it then," Matsu said, "I'm sure I will see you soon." And then she hung up.

Sakura's face split into a huge grin as she set the phone back on its cradle, but it abruptly disappeared again when she heard Kusanagi's voice coming from the doorway.

"From the smile on your face Cherry Blossom, I would surmise that you just received some good news," he drawled lazily as he and Momiji came through the door.

Sakura shot them a quick, assessing, sideways look. She immediately noted Momiji's rumpled appearance; her wet slacks and shirt that gaped right in the middle, and Kusanagi's sodden overcoat and damp jeans. Feeling vastly confident in the superiority of her beauty at that particular moment, she lounged against the lab table, pulling her shoulders back so that her lushly rounded breasts were thrust forward, showing off her cleavage and feminine wiles to perfection. She raised her hand and with a languid motion, flicked several long strands of her sandy blonde hair over her shoulder, sending her most provocative and sultry look in Kusanagi's direction. "You guys look like you've been slogging through a swamp somewhere, Carrot Boy," she told him, a feline smile stretched across her face.

Kusanagi met her gaze with a raised eyebrow, his eyes slowly roving critically over Sakura's curvaceous form before he murmured slyly, "Are your clothes getting smaller, or are you getting fatter, Cherry Blossom?"

Sakura's smile vanished and her body immediately whipped into a standing position. She began to quiver with barely suppressed rage.

"What's it to you, Carrot Boy?" she retorted, her crimson eyes flaming. With a snort, her nose soared into the air before she heard a strange hissing sound coming from the table to her left.

Puzzled she turned her head seeking the source as the sound expanded into a strange whirring. It was coming from the flask sitting on the hotplate. She had forgotten to remove it and replace it with the coffee pot, and now large bubbles were trying to rise through the thin neck of the flask. They were roiling quicker than the narrow space would allow, and the flask was shaking from the pressure rising inside of it. She didn't know much about chemistry, but it didn't take a genius to see that something bad was about to happen.

Then, as if on cue, Kusanagi yelled, "Momiji, get down!" His feet pounded across the linoleum as he ground out, "Sakura watch out!"

Sakura felt Kusanagi's broad shoulder slam into her midsection. He knocked her off her feet and drove all of the wind out of her so that she didn't even have the breath to let out the screech that was caught in her throat. As her head thwacked hard against the floor, there was a loud explosion and the sound of splintering glass. Kusanagi lay atop her, squashing her breasts flat against his hard chest, his legs entangled with hers and Sakura instinctively pressed closer to him as she heard the remnants of the flask go whizzing past her, hissing and popping.

Kusanagi had raised his arms up alongside Sakura's head to try and protect her, but despite his best efforts to shield her completely, blobs of hot, noxious smelling goo landed in her hair and spattered across her face. But the brunt of the flask's remnants landed wetly against the back of Kusanagi's head, his back and the sleeves of his coat. As pieces of shrapnel flew past them, he let out a grunt as a long piece of glass sliced through the black material of his over coat and imbedded itself into his shoulder. After several long seconds it was over and Kusanagi raised himself up on his elbows, looking down into Sakura's rounded, crimson eyes.

"What the _HELL _was that?" he demanded in a tight voice.

"Well," Sakura replied diffidently, "I was going to make some coffee and – "

"Coffee?" Kusanagi interrupted, his stunned look quickly changing to derisive anger, "you can't even boil water! So what made you think that you could handle something as ambitious as coffee? That's _waaay _out of your league, Faith Healer!!"

Sakura's mouth immediately tensed, her freckles crinkling across her nose as she narrowed her crimson eyes into a scowl. "I don't have to take that kind of abuse from you!" she spat, "so why don't you go f –"

"Sakura? Kusanagi?" Momiji querulously broke into the middle of their escalating confrontation. She slowly rose to her feet and crept closer to them, the small shards of glass crunching beneath the soles of her shoes despite her efforts to step around the debris. "Are you both all right?" she wanted to know, picking her way closer to them. Her eyes roamed over their position and she couldn't help thinking that if she hadn't been here to witness the explosion, their current position would suggest something more intimate than what it truly was.

They were both still lying on the floor, Kusanagi's body cradled between Sakura's shapely thighs, his face just inches from hers as he stared down at her. Momiji tried not to notice how Sakura's long legs were raised on either side of Kusanagi's body, but it was just about impossible to ignore. Her peach skirt was bunched up around her waist, exposing lacy, white garters tied to her stockings and her white, silky, underwear, which appeared, to Momiji, to be the height of sexual femininity. Momiji made herself look away then, but couldn't help wondering as she did so, if this was the kind of thing Kusanagi had been alluding to when he had asked her if she didn't have something more "adult" to wear other than her flannel nightgowns.

"Would you get off of me?" Sakura demanded in a strained voice breaking into Momiji's musings.

"You know, a 'thank you' would be nice right about now, Cherry Blossom," Kusanagi remarked dryly as he pushed himself up onto his knees. He grimaced and held his breath as he reached around and slid the long shard of glass free from his shoulder.

"_Pffft_," Sakura snorted, still glaring at him as she sat up. "Thank you for what? Squashing my breasts until they're flatter than Momiji's!?"

"Hey!" Momiji inserted affronted, but neither of them seemed to hear her.

Kusanagi's eyes briefly flitted down to Sakura's ample breasts and his lips quirked into a wry smile. "I'm sure they'll manage to bounce back to their usual, blatant position without any lasting damage," he told her dismissively, "so why don't you just stop whining. I could have let the whole thing explode in your face." He examined the long, thin shard of glass, noting it was covered with green, viscous gel as well as a thick layer of his blood before he tossed it to the glass and goo splattered linoleum next to him.

Sakura's face clouded into an even darker scowl as she watched Kusanagi discard the jagged fragment, resentment welling up in her at his indifferent censure of her attitude. She opened her mouth to offer a scathing retort, but didn't get a chance to respond to him.

"Oh, Kusanagi!" Momiji interrupted again, this time, latent concern in her voice, " you're bleeding!" She scurried forward when she saw him toss the glass aside, but then abruptly halted and covered her nose and mouth with her hand. "_Whoa_ –" she managed to choke out, "- You guys… really… smell… bad!!" After a moment, she managed to pull her hand away from her face despite the desire to keep it there, and she stepped closer to Kusanagi's back so she could take a better look at his wound. "What was it that exploded anyway?" she asked curiously.

"It was Sakura's coffee," Kusanagi told her with a sardonic glint, looking over his shoulder into her face as she examined the large rent in the shoulder of his coat.

At his words, Momiji's green eyes met his, and she felt an answering smile spontaneously curl her lips before she answered him in a more serious vein. "That piece of glass made a really deep puncture wound. It needs to be cleaned or it's liable to get infected." Kusanagi just grunted at her assessment and Momiji chose to ignore any negative ramifications that might be associated with his reaction. "I think there is a first aid kit over by the sink somewhere. I'll go check."

"My coffee?! What the?!" Sakura sputtered loudly over Momiji and Kusanagi's exchange. "That was NOT my coffee!" she defended indignantly "I don't know what the heck it was! I was going to make some coffee, but that green stuff was already sitting on the hotplate when I got here!"

"Did you never think to remove it from the hotplate, Sakura?" Kusanagi asked in aggravation, turning back around to face her, one eyebrow soaring quizzically. "- Or did you think it might be fun to see what would happen to it when you heated it to – " he stopped and shot a piercing look at the dial on the front of the hotplate before he reached out and flipped the power to it off, "- 800 degrees Fahrenheit?" Sakura's mouth fell open, unaware that that was how high the setting had been. She didn't say anything, but humiliated color stained her elegant cheekbones. "Almost anything is bound to explode if you get it that hot Sakura – maybe even coffee. Thank god that whatever was in the flask didn't get that hot before it exploded, or we would have more than smelly goo to contend with," he castigated her. "I would hate to think of what such extremes would have done to the back of my head," his eyes raked over the streaks of green goo across Sakura's cheeks, "- not to mention your face."

"You're over dramatizing the situation," Sakura argued with a feeble sniff. " – How was I supposed to know it would do that?" Her crimson eyes slid away from him to study the floor resentfully. "They didn't exactly go over the fundamentals of lab equipment at the Kusamikado School, so I don't know how to operate one of these things – I'm a priestess, Kusanagi, not a scientist, dammit!" she informed him. Despite the imperiousness of her tone, the ineptness she was feeling was revealed not by her words, but by her actions as she awkwardly fidgeted and tried to squeeze some of the goop out of her hair by pinching her fingers together and running them down the length of the strands.

"You know what your problem is, Sakura?" he demanded in asperity after a long moment.

"What?" she snapped, her voice still peevish.

"It's your personality. It's as irritating as hell!" came his snide reply.

"You are such a pig, Kusanagi," Sakura hissed, letting her hand fall to her side as she clambered to her feet, mustering all the dignity she could as she tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her ruined outfit. "Thank god I won't have to put up with your beastly attitude any more!"

"What do you mean?" Momiji inquired, inserting herself back into the conversation as she returned to Kusanagi's side, first aid kit in hand along with several damp clothes, one of which she handed to Sakura.

"Ms. Matsudaira called from Tokyo just before you got here – "

"Ms. Matsudaira went back to Tokyo?" Momiji asked, startled by this piece of information. "Why?"

"Mr. Kunikida and Ryoko are there as well," Sakura informed her, "but as for Ms. Matsudaira - Hmm, well, I think she's in Tokyo because her son is in the hospital – " Sakura broke off at Momiji's gasp.

"What's wrong with Jun?"

"I dunno really," Sakura said, "I think he was stabbed –"

"Oh my god!" Momiji exclaimed, horrified.

"She said he was going to be okay, but you'll have to ask her for the details," Sakura told her in an offhand way. "Anyway, the real reason she called was to tell us that Mr. Kunikida wants us back in Tokyo. So that means a reprieve from your obnoxious boyfriend for me," Sakura finished flippantly, rubbing the cloth over her face to remove the smelly goo while she watched as Momiji, looking uncomfortable at the word "boyfriend", helped Kusanagi slowly remove his coat.

Honestly, thought Sakura in exasperation, she is such a little prude. She's so afraid that he'll reject her, that she can't she see how tightly wrapped around her finger he is… Well maybe her little plan to shake things up a bit was a good idea after all. The naïve, little twit needed to see that she had power over Kusanagi, and not be so afraid of scaring him away. He wasn't going anywhere, and the sooner Momiji realized that, the sooner their relationship would advance. Momiji needed to open her eyes, and see the forest instead of just the one tree that she seemed to have been staring at for far too long, and Sakura was convinced that her ploy would help to bring that about…

Unaware of Sakura's contrivances, Momiji laboriously worked to free Kusanagi from his black coat without causing him further pain. But despite her best her efforts to keep from jarring his shoulder, Kusanagi bared his teeth in a grimace as she pulled the sleeve down his arm. Once she was done, she paused a moment to give Kusanagi a chance to recover his equanimity. She reached into the first aid kit and removed a pair of short, surgical scissors, her bright eyes catching Sakura's on the way back as she turned once again to face Kusanagi's back.

"I don't understand why the TAC's return to Tokyo that would give you a reprieve," Momiji stated, picking back up on the conversation and feeling confounded by Sakura's logic as she began cutting away the jagged hole in the back of Kusanagi's shirt to reveal the deep puncture slowly oozing green blood.

Momiji wiped away the excess blood and, as gently as she could, began probing the wound with a swab, trying to be certain that any of the chemicals contained in the flask that might have contaminated it, were cleaned away. Kusanagi stiffened making a strangled sound, his face going taut , and she bit her lip with a mumbled apology, while trying to listen to Sakura at the same time.

"Well, if the whole team was going, it wouldn't be. But the whole team isn't going – You're not going, " Sakura replied, pointing a finger at Momiji while still rubbing her face with the cloth. She stopped long enough, however, to let her crimson eyes flit over Kusanagi and she added curtly, "- and neither are you. Just the rest of us are to return.

"It seems that the Tengugaki have targeted Tokyo. There have been a large swath of attacks there." Finally finished cleaning her face, Sakura folded the wet cloth inside out to make a clean surface and started working on the gobs of gunk still clinging in her hair. "The boss man seems to think that keeping you here in Izumo with the little Aragami raisin is the best move at the moment ,since the focus of attack appears to have shifted."

"But -" Momiji mumbled, dwindling to a halt as she speculated on Sakura's new information. Absently she finished up with Kusanagi's shoulder, and her thoughts clouded with uncertainty, "- that makes no sense. If their target is Noa, why would they stop coming after him? He is the key to their power."

She pressed a cotton pad against Kusanagi shoulder and taped it in place before handing him the other cloth she had brought with her so he could try and remove some of the chemical debris from his own hair and neck.

Kusanagi gave Momiji a grateful look and took the cloth from her, but then focused his attention on Sakura. "So what does your intuition tell you about such a sudden change, Faith Healer?" He asked seriously.

Sakura gave Kusanagi a considering look and deliberated his question for a long moment before she finally responded, "I don't know what to make of it actually. Momiji's right. It doesn't make sense really, if their target is the Aragami sprout. They should be here instead of in Tokyo, but they're not. - Perhaps this is just a diversionary tactic – a way of drawing us away from Noa. Since they can travel underground, it would be difficult for us to track their movement if they decided to double back in this direction."

"I wonder that Mr. Kunikida hasn't thought of that," Momiji commented worriedly.

"He probably has, Momiji," Kusanagi told her, "but if the Tengugaki have concentrated their attacks on Tokyo for the time being, then he has no choice but to follow them. They are strong, and they could decimate the city if their strength were to grow unchecked." Momiji looked even more worried at that and Kusanagi dropped a hand to her shoulder. "Don't worry, Momiji," he murmured softly, "we won't let them win. One way or another, we will find a way to destroy them."

Momiji didn't say anything, but she stared up at him, her eyes full of trust and acceptance as she nodded, grateful now more than ever that he was by her side.

"Hey," Sakura interrupted suddenly, "what happened to your gloves Kusanagi?"

At the other woman's words, Momiji's startled eyes flitted to the long fingers resting warmly against her shoulder and she noted, for the first time that day, that he wasn't wearing any. Disconcerted embarrassment skittered across her features as she recalled how she had unabashedly begged him to remove them the night before, and she wondered if her plea had anything to do with why he wasn't wearing them now.

Kusanagi quickly pulled away from Momiji's shoulder and shoved his hands in his jeans' pockets. "Nothing happened to them," he told her with a sullen shrug, a shuttered expression on his face.

His reaction intrigued Sakura as well as Momiji's reaction, who was now trying to stare a hole through the far wall, pretending to be uninterested in the topic. It made Sakura want to find out just that much more why Kusanagi wasn't wearing them. She didn't think that she had ever seen him without them, so why all of a sudden would he decide to give them up?

"Hmm. How interesting. I wonder if our local virgin had anything to do with their disappearance." Sakura remarked slyly, watching Momiji's face from beneath her lashes.

"No," Kusanagi replied bitingly.

Momiji tried to keep her face from falling at the resounding note of denial in his voice, but she knew from Sakura's knowing look that she didn't do a very good job. Kusanagi shifted uncomfortably, aware of Momiji's expression, but unwilling to reveal anything to Sakura. Instead he glared at the sandy-haired psychic, warning her with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Why are you still here, Cherry Blossom?" He asked, swiftly changing the course of conversation to avoid any more of the blonde's mischief making. "I thought you would have peeled out of here as soon as you found out that you could return to Tokyo."

Kusanagi's glare became even more pronounced when Sakura gave him a crafty smile, her eyes gleaming with the promise of further trouble. "Oh," she responded casually, pushing her clumpy hair off her shoulders so that if flopped heavily against her back, "normally I would have been," she acknowledged, "but I knew that you and Momiji were coming by today to pick up the little Aragami twig, and I wanted to be here for that."

Kusanagi frowned heavily and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And why exactly is that?" he growled irascibly, disliking the vibe he was getting from her.

Sakura refrained from replying but gave him a secretive smile. "Just to verify a few observations I've made," she assured him. "Perhaps I'll tell you when he gets here – which reminds me," she paused and tapped a brightly painted fingernail against her chin, "Matsu called here and told me to tell Momiji…"

"Tell me what?" Momiji inquired after Sakura failed to add anything else.

"Hang on," Sakura frowned, "I'm trying to remember what it was…' her finger slid up to her mouth and she nibbled on the broken tip, thinking hard. "It was about his food," she mumbled "and setting him out in the sun after he eats so he can convert the sunlight into energy..."

"What?" Momiji asked faintly, her chestnut brows soaring, struck by the bizarreness of Sakura's statements. "Are you sure…?"

"Don't listen to her, Momiji," Kusanagi muttered in disgust, "she doesn't know what the heck she's talking about."

"I do so!" Sakura protested heatedly. "She said that the formula she was making wasn't ready and that it was extremely unstable – "

"- Geez, Sakura, I wonder if that was what exploded. Do you think?" Kusanagi interrupted dryly, and the priestess shot him a wrathful look.

Sakura's lips thinned and she replied mutinously, "I've already told you – "

"Never mind that," Momiji cut in hastily, trying to avoid further sniping between her and Kusanagi and wanting Sakura to recall what it was that Matsu had said.

Sakura reluctantly turned her attention away from Kusanagi's smirk, pacifying herself with the knowledge that she was pretty certain she could wipe it from his face in very short order – just as soon as the baby arrived - and she focused on trying to recall exactly what it was that Matsu had said.

After a few more minutes, she threw up her hands and shrugged impatiently. "I can't remember," she grumbled plaintively, "so maybe you should just call her. "

"That would be my suggestion as well, Momiji," Kusanagi advised lowly, sliding a sideways look at Momiji, "since our resident psychic has a bad habit of mangling her facts." His eyes slid back towards Sakura and, with a feral grin, he said, "Maybe you need to go back to the Kusamikado School and sharpen your intuitive skills somewhat. That way you could fall back on them at times like this when you can't seem to remember a damn thing, Cherry Blossom – Or maybe -" he raised his finger as if struck by a profound thought, "- you should just give up being a psychic altogether since your skills have yet to span the enormous gap made by your total lack of wits."

"Go to hell, Kusanagi!" Sakura barked.

"Ladies first," he retorted and the air reverberated with the sound of Sakura's frustrated growl.

"Kusanagi," Momiji sighed, "please…" Her eyes begged him to stop baiting Sakura.

"Please what?" he asked sullenly, and then when she just gave him a pointed look, he shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands into his jean pockets again. "All right, all right," he grumbled, turning and stalking away.

Momiji rolled her eyes at Sakura and Kusanagi's ongoing skirmish and walked towards the desk to pick up the phone. She tried to ignore the hostility that hung thickly in the air as she dialed Matsu's number, concentrating all of her attention into marshalling her thoughts together so that she could receive the scientist's instructions, and then make a report regarding what she had learned about Kusanagi's indistinct brush with Orochi and then his brief confrontation with Midori. But before she addressed any of these things, she first questioned Matsu about her son, this being of primary concern to her. Once she learned that everything was okay, Momiji asked about the puzzling instructions regarding Noa's baby formula.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted her to deliver the message," Matsu complained acerbically before the topic ended and she gave Momiji the necessary information.

Feeling enlightened, Momiji then turned the conversation towards what Kusanagi had told her that morning, and Matsu became just as alarmed about the whole situation as Kusanagi and Momiji had been.

"So, Kusanagi thinks Midori is hiding something?" Matsu mused. "And you, Momiji, what do you think?"

"Well, it's hard to say, really," Momiji replied cautiously, biting her lip. "I trust Kusanagi's instincts about what he felt last night, and even though I hate to think that Orochi or Murakumo might be out there, I just can't believe that Kusanagi is wrong about it. - As for Midori -" Momiji paused briefly, thinking about it for a moment. "I know that Kusanagi isn't as close to Midori as I am, but I think that he's probably right about her too. – It's just not like her to be so secretive – and she did admit that she was at the iwatto when the Tengugaki attack occurred, so she must have seen something… Besides that, from what I've seen of the Tengugaki, I don't think she could have escaped alive if something or someone else hadn't intervened."

Matsu sighed in resignation, troubled by her young intern's unusual behavior. "You're most likely, correct. I know that she doesn't normally report to Mr. Kunikida, but under the circumstances, I think he is going to want to make an exception." Matsu observed, "and require that she meet with him so that he can debrief her about the incident."

Momiji bit her lip at this piece of information. "Please, do you think that that could be avoided for now? If she is hiding something, that will just drive the truth farther from us. Let me try and talk to her first and see what I can find out."

There was a slight pause and then Matsu reluctantly replied, "It's not for me to decide, Momiji. But I will relay your request to Mr. Kunikida, along with all of the information that you have provided to me. I would let you speak with him now, only he's not here at the moment. There have been three more attacks in the early morning hours here, and he's out investigating the sites with Ryoko."

Momiji expressed her shock at the news and then added, "I'll try calling again – when - I – get – home – and talk – to – him – then…" Momiji's voice petered out as her attention was suddenly caught by Kusanagi.

He had gotten out the broom and the dustpan and was sweeping up the scattered shards of glass. Momiji's mouth fell open in amazement as she watched the debris littering the floor rapidly disappear. That he could effectively wield such a domestic object didn't surprise her, but that he would actually dare to do so seemed beyond bizarre to her.

Hmm, she thought. She ought to see how he was with a vacuum cleaner too, and then she mentally snorted at the absurdity of the idea. She shoved the superfluous notion aside, choosing instead to ponder the mystery of what had brought about Kusanagi's urge to – of all things – clean the lab.

Then she looked at his handsome face and noted the tight set of his jaw before her eyes dropped to the rigidity of his broad shoulders. It was Sakura, Momiji suddenly realized. He was trying his best to ignore her. Switching her attention to the blonde bombshell sitting parked with her rump stationed on the corner of the desk, her arms folded across her breasts with a bored look on her face; Momiji wondered why he let the psychic get to him.

"Are you still there, Momiji?"

Matsu's voice brought Momiji out of her reverie and she quickly responded, finishing the conversation with things still up in the air regarding Midori. The best she could hope for was that Kunikida would at least wait until Momiji got a chance to discuss the situation with him before he demanded a report from Midori.

Hanging up the phone, Momiji heard Sakura begin to speak and realized that the sexy priestess was addressing her.

"So, tell me truthfully, Momiji," Sakura murmured dulcetly, throwing a look over her shoulder at Momiji, "how did you get Kusanagi to give up his gloves?"

The gentle _swish swish_ sound of the broom ceased and Momiji flitted a look at Kusanagi. He was still looking down at the floor, but he had stopped sweeping, gripping the wooden handle so tightly that she could almost hear the wood creak from the pressure, a horrible scowl darkening his face.

Momiji felt her face stiffen at Sakura's curious inquiry, and she shifted self-consciously from foot to foot, her hand coming up to her midriff and automatically pressing against the gaping hole in the middle. "Well, I uh…"

"It was sex wasn't it?" Sakura commented smugly, watching the red break out across the other girl's face. She laughed softly when she heard Kusanagi growl, but she kept her attention focused on Momiji. "No?" she said after a moment, feigning shock as she slid her shapely rump from the desk and turned all the way around to face Momiji. "You mean that you haven't had sex yet, even though you've been living together in the same house now for… how long has it been?" she paused briefly pondering it, and then waved a negligent hand, "oh, it doesn't matter really. I would think the first day would have been a long enough wait for most girls. But then you're not most girls, are you?" Momiji still wasn't saying anything, her gaze riveted to the desk that separated her and Sakura. She was mortified beyond words and remained rooted to the spot as Sakura continued speaking, " You know, I was almost certain that you had offered him sex in exchange for the removal of his gloves, but I guess not, eh? I mean, even if you _had_ slept with him, that wouldn't mean that he would necessarily give them up in public… But that does pose an interesting question, doesn't it?" Sakura briefly swiveled around and looked at Kusanagi, "So, Carrot Boy, in the past, did you remove them during those, more… intimate moments? Or were they always on, no matter what?" Kusanagi continued to growl, and he shot her a searing look. But Sakura only smiled indulgently and returned her attention to Momiji. "He's not one to kiss and tell, I see. I guess if we want to know the answer to that, we'll have to go digging through his past and see if we can find someone that can tell us."

Momiji's head snapped up at that, her green eyes flashing to Sakura's crimson ones. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sakura gave her a knowing smile, and with a wink leaned forward across the desk and whispered confidentially, "I know that you're a virgin, Momiji, but surely you don't think that Kusanagi -" she paused again and glanced back over her shoulder at the handsome, dark man who stood, glowering just behind her, looking like he was ready to pounce on her and throttle her at any moment. "- Surely you don't think that he's a virgin too?"

"Stop it!" Kusanagi hissed, grabbing Sakura by the shoulder and yanking her away from the desk, his eyes seething with pent up fury. "What the hell are you trying to do, Sakura!? - Leave Momiji alone!"

"I'm not trying to do anything," Sakura defended herself innocently, glancing back at Momiji to see the impact of her statements, "I was just making a casual observation. That's all."

"Like hell, you were!" Kusanagi snarled, his eyes flitting from Sakura's face to Momiji, silently groaning when he saw the look on her face.

When Sakura had first mentioned it, she had looked surprised. But now, she looked more than a little perturbed, and Kusanagi wondered how he was supposed to undo the few careless words that Sakura had uttered.

For her own part, Sakura felt satisfaction course through her as she watched the ideas she had expressed take hold and sink into Momiji's brain. There, she thought triumphantly, careful to keep her countenance casually indifferent. These two had been dancing around each other long enough, and it was high time for some action. And if the idea of Kusanagi with another woman didn't light a fire under Little Miss Perfect, then Sakura didn't know what would. But, just to be on the safe side, she would wait for Noa's arrival and drive the idea home with her coup de grâce – and give Momiji and Kusanagi something else to talk about – something that even they couldn't possibly ignore.


	32. 31: Treachery in a Familiar Face

31: Treachery in a Familiar Face

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"Yo!" Momiji heard the sound of Kome's voice and she turned away from Sakura and Kusanagi.

"Kome!" she called. Her relieved eyes roamed over the redhead standing in the doorway, noting the diaper bag slung over her shoulder and the bundle of soft blankets that she cradled close to her body. "I was beginning to wonder if something had happened to you and Yaegashi," Momiji stated as moved forward to greet her friend, all too aware that behind her, Kusanagi and Sakura hadn't stopped shooting each other dirty looks yet. "Help!" she mouthed in desperate accents as she came to a stop in front of Kome, her voice soft so that only the blue eyed, redhead could hear her. She gave an almost imperceptible jerk of her head back towards the other two occupants of the room who were now engaged in what looked like a heated, if somewhat quiet, exchange of words, and Kome's eyes followed the movement, wondering what had them looking like a cat and dog engaged in a tense confrontation.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?!" Kusanagi gritted out between clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice low enough so that only Sakura could hear him.

"Why, I'm Sakura Yamazaki, of course," she replied coyly, batting her eye lashes at him, "the greatest psychic to grace the planet in the last fifty years."

"If you're the best we've got, I'd hate to see the really bad ones!" he muttered furiously. "And you know damned well that's not what I was referring to. I want to know what it is you thought to accomplish just a minute ago, talking to Momiji that way."

"What?" Sakura asked innocently, her crimson eyes staring guilelessly at him. "I was just making idle conversation, exploring a few avenues that had never been considered before."

"Come off it," Kusanagi hissed, even more infuriated by her feigned ignorance, "you're not that stupid, Sakura! Your words were specifically designed to hurt Momiji – not to mention, piss me off! I'd always had you pegged as a cold, arrogant bitch, but I never believed that even you would stoop so low! Are you so hard up in your own life that you have to go around screwing with the lives of others?"

At his words, Sakura dropped the wide-eyed look, her body stiffening in anger.

"What?!" she demanded in outrage, her eyes coldly raking him up and down. "You have some nerve, Carrot Boy!" she retorted, making a sharp, pointed gesture with her finger in his direction, "- talking to me that way when all I was trying to do was to get you two idiots to open your oblivious eyes and see what the rest of us have been seeing for years! But I can see the efforts I made on your behalf are not to be appreciated!"

"You've got that right!" he growled acerbically. "I don't need you sticking your nose in my business, Faith Healer! I've told you that before!" he hissed, his eyes narrowing in fury. "I can manage things between Momiji and myself on my own without some flaky, _quack psychic_, messing it up! - God, I truly pity those that are shortsighted enough to rely on your powers for anything, considering your insensitive nature! And as for you being the best psychic in fifty years – don't make me laugh!" he sneered. "You may think your talent is unique, but it's more like your botched coffee than anything else – It's extremely unstable, it's prone to failure and _BOY DOES IT STINK!_""

"Is that so?" Sakura challenged softly, a dangerous glint entering her eyes at his virulent attack. "We'll just see about that, you obnoxious weed!" she stated in a menacing way, and Kusanagi's anger quickly transformed into wariness, aware that he had let his temper goad him into saying some very unwise things.

Kome's blue eyes flickered past Momiji and she continued to assess the situation. "Who's winning?" she asked in sardonic amusement as she transferred the bundle of blankets she had been carrying to Momiji.

"Not me, that's for sure," Momiji grumbled. "It's terrible to have to sit and listen to them snipe at one another. It just keeps getting worse and worse" Momiji declared quietly. She let her eyes swept over the serene face of baby Noa, who was fast asleep, before she raised them back to Kome, a pleading expression within their depths. "Sooner or later, one of them is going to say something that they will regret, and I don't want to see that happen. Please, Kome, you have to help me think of something!"

Kome's eyes drifted from Momiji's troubled countenance back towards Sakura and Kusanagi once more and she declared, "Really, Momiji - I can't say that I blame Plant Boy for not liking her. More power to him if he can take her down a notch or two!"

"Kome!" Momiji exclaimed in a pained voice, "your attitude is not helping me any!"

"Okay, okay," Kome grinned, "but what do you want me to do, kiddo? Making peace is not something that I'm very good at – that tends to be more of Matsu or Ryoko's strong suit."

"I'm not asking you to be peacemaker, all I'm asking is for you to help me try and keep them from each other's throats," Momiji responded.

"All right. I'll try to think of something," Kome agreed reluctantly with a sigh. She moved further into the room and passed by Momiji who turned and fell into step alongside her. "- But you know, it won't be easy for me. My natural inclination is to side with anyone who's against Super Slut."

"Kome!" Momiji exclaimed again.

Kome chuckled. "Take it easy. I was just kidding – WHOA!" She gasped waving her hand in front of her face as she came to an abrupt halt next to Sakura and Kusanagi. "What the hell is that smell!?"

Neither Sakura nor Kusanagi said anything. They just continued to stare balefully at one another.

"That would be the explosion of whatever was in the flask that Matsu left sitting on the hot plate," Momiji interjected quietly after a moment .

"How the heck did that happen?" Kome asked curiously. "Did it spontaneously combust or something?"

Again there was a moment of silence. "Er, no-" Momiji stopped and bit her lip, reluctant to add anything further, lest she stir up more trouble than what was already brewing. "Please don't ask," she finally said, "it's not really that important anyway."

Kome's gaze moved from face to face and after a moment, she shrugged it off, accepting Momiji's.

"I see you finally managed to bring the Aragami sprout in," Sakura observed. She took advantage of Momiji's silence to neatly sidetrack the conversation away from any outside chance that someone (namely, Kusanagi!) would say that the explosion might be her fault. Feigning an interest in the sleeping infant, she leaned in Momiji's direction and trained her eyes on the squashed up face huddled inside the nest of blankets.

Kome took an involuntary step backwards upon the blonde's nearness, the reek of Sakura's chemical stained clothes and hair almost too much for Kome to bear. Even Noa twisted fitfully in his sleep, a fretful whimper escaping from him as his nose, too, discovered the none too pleasant odor.

"How about, let's open a window," Kome wheezed, moving as quickly away from Sakura as she could. "I know it's cold out and it will chill the room down, but - good lord, we need to get some breathable air in here!"

No one said anything and she took that to mean unanimous agreement. So she reached for the window and jerked it open, taking a deep, cleansing breath as fresh air flowed into the room.

"Ahhh," she sighed, turning around and facing the other occupants of the room, a relieved look on her face. "That's _much_ better."

"Where's Yaegashi?" Kusanagi asked her.

He reluctantly let his cat-like eyes waver from Sakura's dubiously mild expression to look at Kome, aware that if Sakura were planning any other nasty verbal bombs that there was little he could do to stop her. He was just going to have to concentrate on trying to repair the damage she had done when he and Momiji got home.

"He's outside, transferring some of the baby's things from our car to Momiji's," Kome informed him.

Uninterested with the current topic of conversation, Sakura flicked a look at Momiji from beneath her lashes, and despite Kusanagi's warning, or perhaps because of it, she introduced a new subject that had very little factual merit, but one that was infinitely more interesting.

"Fascinating isn't it??" she murmured in low tones to Momiji, keenly aware that Kome and Kusanagi had quit speaking to look at her with mixed curiosity and suspicion.

Kome frowned in a puzzled way and Kusanagi clenched his fists, his eyes smoldering as he gave the psychic another hard look, knowing it was not going to do him any good.

He was right.

Sakura ignored them both.

"What's fascinating?" Momiji wanted to know, unsure of what Sakura was talking about.

"Just how much alike they look," the priestess observed.

"They? You mean Noa and other Aragami?" Momiji tried to clarify. "Actually I don't think that Noa looks that much like an Aragami myself – except, of course for the mitamas – "

"No, silly," Sakura interrupted impatiently, amazed at Momiji's obtuseness, "I mean, isn't it amazing how much Noa resembles Kusanagi! It's almost as if that little sprig was Kusanagi's… sprout." She finished her statement by jabbing a finger in Kusanagi's direction. Then she hurried on before anyone could interrupt, "I wonder what the gestation period for an Aragami baby would be. You know, I bet it's a lot shorter than a regular human's," she speculated, "which would mean that while Kusanagi was missing for those three months, he could have been… well, let's just say that, theoretically, he could easily have fathered this brat –"

"What a load of crap!" Kome interrupted furiously, "Noa doesn't look anything like Kusanagi, does he, Momiji?" She expectantly turned her head in Momiji's direction and waited for verbal confirmation.

"Well, actually," Momiji began, her eyes moving over the baby's face, studying him intently, "he does look a lot like Kusanagi – " she began for argument's sake.

"What!?!" Kusanagi exclaimed, his startled eyes moving to Momiji. "Just what the hell do you mean by that? Surely you don't think that I…!?"

"Of course she doesn't, you fool!" Kome responded scornfully, but Kusanagi made a sharp motion with his hand, cutting Kome off and keeping his attention on Momiji, waiting to hear it from her.

"Well - no, of course not," Momiji agreed slowly. Her green slid over the relieved look on Kusanagi's face, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was relieved because it wasn't true, or because _she _didn't believe it to be true. There was a world of difference between the two possibilities. "I mean, that would be logically impossible, don't you think? - Since Noa's mother was human and you're also human– it would make it unlikely that such a short period of time would result in the birth of a baby, despite the Aragami mitamas that you have imbedded in your body… Three months just doesn't seem feasible… it would have had to have happened before that …" Momiji stuttered to a halt when she saw the look on Kusanagi's face.

"So you're saying that… that you believe that I was with another woman during the three months that I was gone?"

"N- no, that not what I –" Momiji stuttered.

"Then you're telling me that you believe I fathered him _before _I left Tokyo, before I left you. Is that it?" Kusanagi asked in a quietly goaded voice.

"N-no," Momiji hastened to assure him quickly, "that's not what I meant –" and even though she truly meant her denial, she couldn't dismiss the fact that he knew all too well how to please a woman – she had discovered that from first hand experience. And she also knew that she hadn't been the one to teach him that knowledge. But he had learned it from somewhere. The only questions were when had he learned it, and with whom? "I only meant that…"

"Forget it," Kusanagi muttered harshly, a sense of humiliated discomfort washing over him when he saw Sakura's satisfied expression and Kome's suddenly interested one. "We'll talk about it later," he informed her coldly and Momiji mutely nodded, just as acutely uncomfortable as he was.

"Hey, Plant Boy," Kome said suddenly. "What happened to your gloves?" she asked, noticing their absence for the first time.

Kusanagi heaved a heavy sigh and replied impatiently, "Nothing happened to them."

"But you're not wearing them," Kome doggedly pointed out.

"So!?" he scowled.

"Forget it," Sakura advised sourly, waving her hand in Kome's direction, "he's not going to tell you. I've already asked and – " she stopped as a strong gust of wind came through the window and the cold room suddenly got even colder. The irritation faded from her face, a look of absorption taking its place as her crimson eyes trailed away from Kome, focusing just to the left of the redhead and she stared intently off into space.

"And what?" Kome prompted, but Sakura seemed to be enraptured by the wall and didn't reply. Kome waited or several more seconds, watching Sakura's strange behavior and then snorted dismissively. With a shrug, She turned her attention back to Kusanagi, so she could amuse herself by badgering him about his missing gloves.

Zan Kazai entered the lab through the open window, his attention focused upon the chestnut haired, green-eyed girl who clutched the key to the Tengugaki's power within her arms.

So this was the Kushinada, he thought.

His eyes burned in his pale face, fascination animating the deadly darkness within them. Was this truly what the Arch Daemon of the Withered Kingdom feared? This small scrap of human flesh? He could scarcely believe that such a tiny and helpless looking creature had brought the downfall of the entire Aragami race and wondered if Lord Akumakai had somehow overestimated her power.

But no, he amended silently. He could feel the waves of pure, pulsating energy, even as far away as he was. And it made him want to get closer to her. He was seduced by the draw of it, the feel of her innocence in direct contrast to its corrupting rawness.

This power; were all of the Kushinada's steeped in its force? he wondered, awestruck.

He eyes burned even darker with desire, wanting to be able to stand close enough to her so that he could feel the waves of it vibrate through his body. What a pity he would be unable to siphon it away and combine it with his own strength. But without one of the mitamas that Lord Akumakai guarded so carefully, Zan Kazai could only hope for a brief taste of it before the winds would scatter it away, dispersing it into the sea of eddies and currents of spiritual energy that flowed in never ending motion throughout the Overworld.

With each wave that touched him, his excitement grew, fueling his imagination. Obscene thoughts began swirling in his head, creating a vortex of images, the focus of which centered around the young Kushinada. The dull buzz of human conversation faded into the background and even the hybrid child received only a passing observance as his covetousness and hunger for the young Kushinada grew. For the first time since he could remember, he wished he were human again; for a sustained presence would give him the advantage of being able to physically touch her for a prolonged period of time, become enveloped by the power that was inside of her before he moved to destroy it.

Drawn forward by his dark thoughts, Zan Kazai stealthily slipped around the redheaded human who had led him here and slowly approached Momiji, further studying her appearance. Her skin, her eyes and even the air around her hair radiated with her power and he could barely restrain his impatience to drink it in and release its force, anticipating the feel of it thundering through his body, if only for a few moments. Coming to a stop close to her, he closed his eyes in pleasure as the waves passed through him, pulsing in time with the beat of her heart. He stood like that for several seconds before awareness pierced through his euphoria.

He was being watched.

He snapped his eyes open and turned towards the window, expecting to see one of Akumakai's Tengugaki warriors spying on him. But there was nothing. Frowning, he turned his head away and encountered the crimson colored eyes of a human trained in his direction. It looked as if she were staring at him. But that was impossible, he thought. No human could see him unless he chose to reveal his presence. And yet, her gaze remained steadily trained on him, and his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Cautiously, he moved away from Momiji and watched as the human's eyes moved with him. Surprised alarm bolted through him, but he didn't stop to analyze the sensation as he became a blur of motion, ripping past the red head and out of the window, moving farther and father away from his intended target.

Who was that girl, that she could see him? he mused in incredulity.

She would most probably alert the Kushinada of his existence, he concluded, not that it mattered. That girl might have been able to see him, but there was no way that she could know of his plan to kill the Kushinada. Even so, he thought uneasily, he didn't like it and told himself that the sooner he carried out his plan, the better off he would be.

"Awww! You're not gonna tell me, are you?" Kome sighed after having prodded Kusanagi for the fifth time about the missing gloves.

His expression had gone from being blank and unmoving to dark and sullen. Kome found his reaction highly amusing. It wasn't often that one could find a chink in Kusanagi's armor and she couldn't help herself from hammering at it a little bit, hoping that it would give way and provide her with a brief glimpse beyond the barriers he had erected and give her a better sense of who this man was that Momiji loved so much.

Well, if he weren't willing to talk, then maybe she would appeal to his partner in crime who stood next to him, a guilty look on her face.

Stifling her grin, Kome turned to Momiji and inquired, "You wouldn't happen to know the reason why Plant Boy's not wearing his gloves, would you Momiji?"

Momiji shifted from foot to foot, more than tired of this particular line of cross-examination.

"Er, no, not really," she muttered before quickly adding, "Hey, Kome, I meant to tell you that Matsu called this morning. She wants you and Yaegashi to return to Tokyo along with Sakura." Momiji shifted her attention to the blonde. "Isn't that right, Sakura?" she prompted.

But Sakura wasn't paying any attention to her. She was still staring off into space, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

"Why the sudden change?" Kome wanted to know, her attitude becoming all at once business-like as Momiji relayed all of the details. "Do you think you'll be all right here on your own with the baby?" She asked after Momiji finished, her eyes sliding down in concern to Noa.

"We're not going to be on our own," Momiji replied, "Don't forget that Kusanagi will be here too."

"I haven't forgotten." Kome assured her. Her eyes left Momiji and flitted down to Kusanagi's bare hands and an amused glint once more made a brief appearance in her deep blue eyes. "But I'm suddenly wondering if I should be more worried about that than relieved." And then she was all seriousness again as she gave Kusanagi a hard look. "I don't know exactly what's on your mind, Kusanagi, but you had best remember what I said to you in the hospital that day," she told him with a meaningful look.

Kusanagi's gave a slight nod of his head, remembering only too well the threat the redhead had made.

You broke her heart when you left, you know… she's special to a lot of people, me included, so you'd better not hurt her again, or you'll be breathing out your ass!…

"I haven't forgotten," he informed her and then added wryly, "and I like my lungs right where they are, by the way. But that's beside the point. " … _you broke her heart…_ Even now the words were painful. Then he looked over Kome's shoulder and stared out the window, saying in a very soft voice, "It will never happen again, of that you can be sure."

After a long moment, his eyes came back to steadily focus on her and Kome gave him a penetrating look, weighing his words carefully. Finally she nodded her head in satisfaction.

"What are you guys talking about?" Momiji stammered, burning with curiosity. Their conversation was so roundabout that she knew they were talking about her.

"Nothing you need to know at this particular moment," Kusanagi told, noting the immediate pout that crinkled her nose at his words. "If you're ready, I think we're done here." He looked back at Kome with a raised brow. She just shrugged her shoulders, and so he took Momiji by the arm. "C'mon," he said, pulling her reluctant body towards the door, "let's go."

"No! Wait!" Momiji protested, and Kome watched Kusanagi lead her away despite her efforts to try and pull her arm out of his grasp. "Hey! Tell me what you and Kome were talking about! - WAIT, DARN IT!! - _KUSANAGI!_!"

Kome chucked a little as the sound of Momiji's fading complaints were carried back to her through the open door, and a small, satisfied smile curled her lips when she heard Kusanagi's muted reply.

"I'll tell you, later - when we get home. Ow! Stop that Momiji!"

"Well, I didn't mean to step on you," came Momiji's faint reply, "but you got in my way – and if you would just… _erg!_… let… _erg!_… go! – " the rest of her words were cut off, and Kome surmised it was because they had boarded the elevator and the doors had closed.

She stood there for a moment longer and then snorted. "It sure as hell took you long enough, Plant Boy," she muttered softly and then turned to Sakura who was just standing there frowning at nothing. "You need a ride back to the city?" she inquired reluctantly, not really wanting to make the offer, but forcing herself to do it because Sakura was part of the team too. Sakura didn't say anything, that distracted look still ensconced on her face. Kome, out of patience, waved a hand in front of her eyes and exclaimed sharply, "Hey! Faith Healer, I'm talking to you!" That seemed to do the trick and Sakura finally focused her eyes in Kome's direction. "I asked you if you needed a ride into the city."

"No, thanks," Sakura said disinterestedly and turned away, heading towards the door. "I had my car brought down a couple of days ago since I had no idea how long I would be stranded in this godforsaken place," she threw over her shoulder. "So, I'll drive myself back. I'm sure you guys don't want to wait on me anyways - I have a lot of packing to do before I'm ready to leave."

"I'll bet," Kome murmured, privately wondering how many outfits the blonde had brought with her to Izumo. "Are you sure you can fit everything into that tiny car of yours?" she asked with a sarcastic edge to her voice.

"No," Sakura sighed, taking her question seriously, "I don't think I can, but that just means more things to buy when I get back, doesn't it? See ya!" With a wave of two fingers she sauntered through the door and left Kome to close the lab down and lock the door, her mind heavy with thoughts of Noa, the Tengugaki and the Aragami.

After a few abortive attempts on Momiji's part to get Kusanagi to tell her what he and Kome had been talking about, she heaved a frustrated sigh and gave up. Lapsing into silence they walked out of the building; not another word spoken between them. It was late afternoon now, and despite the sunshine overhead, a pervasive chill seemed to envelope her, creeping into her bones. Momiji shivered, the warm little body of Noa doing little to ward of the insidious cold and huddled deeper within her coat and saw a flash of movement next to her car. It was Kome's husband..

"Hey! Mr. Yaegashi!" Momiji called.

He was bent at the waist, working diligently to adjust Noa's car seat that he had removed from his car and put into hers. At the sound of her voice, Yaegashi turned and waved, but kept on working. By the time Momiji and Kusanagi reached his side, he had finished the job, and they briefly stood talking to him about the new developments.

"I hope Matsu finishes the DNA evaluations soon so we can update the Telemetry Land Tracking System. If we can isolate the necessary isotope, we'll be able to track the Tengugaki more efficiently. It worries me to think that you guys are going to be here on your own with no way of knowing when something is coming," he stated gravely, pushing up his glasses as he spoke.

""How far off are you guys from being done with that?" Momiji inquired.

"Not far, I think," Yaegashi, speculated, "but it really all depends on how fast we can collect the new data in Tokyo."

"I hope it's finished soon," Momiji replied. "Think of all the people we could save if we could see the Tengugaki's movement ahead of time."

Yaegashi agreed, and after a few more moments of conversation, he bid them farewell and went to find his wife who had yet to emerge from the building.

After he was gone, Kusanagi turned and watched Momiji strap the still slumbering Noa into his car seat, thinking about her interest in the TLTS system and asked, "You're not worried about being without the TAC's technical support, are you, Momiji?"

Momiji straightened and looked at him, answering without hesitation, "Of course not. As long as you're here."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she abruptly stopped, seeing a look that she couldn't quite identify on Kusanagi's face before she ducked her head to avoid his gaze. How stupid was she being? She chided herself. She hadn't forgotten that Kusanagi wanted to talk to her about what had happened last night. And statements like the one she had just made weren't helping the awkwardness she felt in regards to all that had transpired between them.

But then, she reflected, neither were the ones that Sakura had made. They only fueled Momiji's uncertainty about what lay ahead for her and Kusanagi, despite Susano-oh's assurances that they were destined to be together.

Momiji moved towards the driver's side, door, but Kusanagi got there first and opened it. He blocked her from getting in and held out his hand, signaling for her to hand him the keys. Momiji was a little startled. She hadn't expected him to want to ride with her. She had been certain that he would have wanted to get home as quickly as possible and shower off the debris that still coated his hair and back. So much for her deductive reasoning, she grumbled silently.

Would she never learn to anticipate him? she wondered as she handed him the keys and went around the car to climb into the passenger seat next to him.

With a feeling of dread, Kusanagi folded himself into the car seat and stuck the key into the ignition. It was a short drive to Momiji's house, but knowing that didn't help. He was too aware of what hung in the air between them, too aware of what needed to be said, especially now that Sakura had stampeded through already treacherous ground with her harmful rhetoric

Damn, Sakura! He silently condemned as he drove out of the parking lot. This day was not turning out at all like he had planned! Fuming in angry frustration, he slid a sideways glance at Momiji, and his already tight jaw clenched even harder. Damn! Damn! Damn! She kept her eyes pinned to the road for the most part, but he could tell by the way she plucked at the missing button on her shirt and fidgeted with the strap of her seat belt that she was thinking about everything that had been said at the lab. With a scowl, he turned his attention back to the road, and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The car shot forward in a sudden burst of speed, swerving sharply as they went around a curve.

Startled by the suddenness of it, Momiji's hands jerked to the dashboard in order to brace herself, and her head snapped in Kusanagi's direction. She took one look at the ferocity of his expression and her eyes widened in alarm.

"Kusanagi?" she began querulously. "I – "

"Not now, Momiji!" He growled. He stifled the urge to have it out right then. No, dammit! He wanted to do this right. He needed to get rid of this god-awful stench before they talked about anything, he told himself determinedly.

Kusanagi's words were spoken with such finality and with such vehemence, that Momiji bit her lip and lapsed into silence. Had Sakura's words disturbed him as much as they had Momiji? Or was it… something else? she asked herself remembering the look that had been painted across his face when she had failed to quickly deny the possibility that Noa was his son. Was that why he was upset? Suddenly she felt horrible, almost as if she had betrayed him in some way. Why was she doubting him? Even when he had been away, she had never truly believed that he had been with another woman; so why let such an idea bother her now? She couldn't explain it. Even to herself, and before she had time to reflect further upon it, she realized that they had pulled up in the driveway in front of the house.

Kusanagi was already out and around to her side of the car before she had her seatbelt unbuckled. She watched as he opened the door for her, his eyes, solemn and brooding as he looked down at her.

"Do you need help getting – the baby – out of the car?" He wanted to know, stepping quickly away from her as she straightened to a standing position.

"No," she responded faintly, still feeling extremely awkward.

"I'm going to go get cleaned up," he told her and she nodded. Turning, he grabbed the portable crib that Yaegashi had put in the back seat and pulled it free, heading towards the house with it. But before he went inside, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Don't plan on getting too immersed in anything, Momiji. I still need to talk to you."

Momiji nodded her head, watching him until he disappeared through the doorway before she moved to get Noa out of the car, trying to push away the sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach. Perhaps this was a good thing, she told herself bracingly. After all, when she had said that she loved him last night, he _had _kissed her… well he had actually done a little more that kiss her her, she amended hastily; but that was beside the point.

But try as she might, she couldn't take comfort from it. For she knew that a physical response was not the same thing as an emotional one – just because he had responded physically, didn't necessarily mean that he loved her the way she loved him –

"Well," she sighed in resignation as she opened the car door and bent down to remove Noa's car seat. "I guess I'll find out soon enough." – Just as soon as Kusanagi finished showering.

As Momiji carried Noa up the stairs, she heard the soft click of the bathroom door and then the sound of water as Kusanagi started the shower. It wouldn't take him long, and Momiji quickly moved down the hall towards her room, wanting to get Noa's crib set up and have him settled into it before Kusanagi finished. She stopped short when she stepped through her bedroom doorway though, noting that Kusanagi had already taken the time to set up the crib for her.

Moving slowly into the room, Momiji ruefully wondered if it had been thoughtfulness on his part that had prompted him to do so, or if it was done with the intention of making sure that she would have no excuses when he was ready to talk to her.

It didn't really matter, she supposed and she put Noa next to the crib and bent to unbuckle the straps that held him in place. Her ears strained to hear the sound of running water, dreading when the soft hissing noise would cease. But it wasn't the cessation of the shower that sent her nerves unraveling. It was a scream, the timbre of which was chillingly familiar.

It was coming from outside Momiji's window, from the back yard, and it ended just as quickly as it had started. Momiji vaulted to her feet and moved to pull back her blinds. Her green eyes raked across the grass, the early evening sun creating long shadows from the trees that bordered the edge of her yard.

There was nothing there, but Momiji continued to scan the perimeter of the trees until her eyes caught the bright flash of red hair and she pressed closer to the window, watching as a bloodied Kome stumbled out into her back yard.

"Oh my god!" Momiji breathed and she yanked the window open and stuck her head out. "Kome! Kome!" she called frantically, watching her friend reel drunkenly across the yard towards the house, sobbing.

"Help me, Momiji!" Kome cried, her right hand pressed again her left side where a bright crimson stain soaked through her shirt. "It's Yaegashi! One of the Tengugaki attacked – oh god, Momiji," she sobbed, "I don't know if he's going to make it!"

"Hang on!" Momiji called, "I'll go and get Kusanagi – "

"NO!" Kome cut in frantically, "There isn't time! You must come now! Please, Momiji!" she begged, visibly wincing and clutching at her side even harder.

"All right," Momiji hurriedly agreed, "I'm coming!" She quickly pulled her head back inside the window, closing it with a snap and skidding across the room to where she had left Noa.

Reaching down, she grasped the handle to his carrier and dashed towards the bathroom, her heart racing and her thoughts in a frightened turmoil, the bloodied image of Kome burned into her mind. The shower was still running, but she barely noticed it as she flung the bathroom door wide and set the baby carrier on the floor, going behind the door to the small closet to get her first aid kit.

Kusanagi heard her enter and he stuck his spiky, wet head around the shower curtain, watching her as she hurriedly pulled some things from the shelf, not quite sure what she was doing. "Momiji?"

"Kome and Yaegashi have been attacked by the Tengugaki," she explained succinctly without looking at him. "Kome's outside waiting for me, and she says Yaegashi is badly hurt." Momiji whirled around and headed for the door, watched by an alarmed Kusanagi.

"Momiji, wait!" he exclaimed.

"I can't!" she called back, already out in the hallway and heading towards the stairs, "Kome said it couldn't wait. He needs help now! When you get done, come and find us!! And hurry, Kusanagi!"

"No! Wait, dammit!! - Momiji!" Kusanagi cried in alarm, but it was too late. She was out of sight by now and Kusanagi was left to hurriedly wash the soap out of his eyes and shut the water off. He jumped from the shower barely giving himself time to towel off before he tried to jam his damp legs into a clean pair of jeans and throw a shirt over his head. "She left you with me," he muttered, looking at the sleeping baby, "but what am I supposed to do with you?" He reached down and grabbed the handle of the carrier, a scowl on hi face. "I guess you'll have to come with me, although, I doubt that's the wisest plan. - But I sure as hell can't leave you here either."

If there was a Tengugaki nearby then this little Aragami halfling was the reason why. Momiji should have realized that, he silently castigated as he tore down the stairs after her. She should have realized that Kome could have led the Tengugaki right to their backdoor. The little idiot should have waited and her recklessness had the effect of riling his temper in the way that only Momiji could.

Momiji grabbed her cell phone and threw open the front door, racing around the side of the house and into the backyard, where Kome stood waiting. She was gasping for breath, her shoulders slumped and her head bent, watching Momiji approach from beneath her lashes with intent eyes. She looked close to collapse, Momiji thought with concern as she reached her friend's side.

"Where is the Aragami child?" Kome asked sharply her voice sounding oddly discordant, striking a note of unease in Momiji.

Bewildered by the suddenness of the feeling, Momiji gave her a strange look before she replied.

"He's inside. Tell me what happened," she murmured urgently as she began dialing an emergency number to call for an ambulance.

"I don't know, it all happened so fast," Kome replied raggedly in between gasps of breath. Her eyes narrowed as she focused intently on the phone in Momiji's hand. "The - Yaegashi realized that he had forgotten to put some of the Aragami child's things in your car, so we were bringing them to you. But then, not far from here – a Tengugaki – ran out into the road and Yaegashi swerved to keep from hitting it. It managed to get in the car and pull Yaegashi out. I tried to stop it, but," Kome looked down at her bloodied side, "it slashed into me before it dragged him off into the trees. I followed as best as I could, managing to shoot it and wound it before it could finish him off. I watched it burrow beneath the earth. It's no doubt returning to the Withered Kingdom to lick its wounds."

There was an odd cadence to her words that not lost on Momiji as she stood with the phone poised to her ear. She watched Kome pause for another breath, a strange hissing noise coming from the red-head's throat and as Momiji continued to stare at her in a horrified, fascinated way, her own throat tightened in reflex. It sounded almost as if Kome had forgotten how to breathe. It was a disturbing noise and Momiji tried not to listen to it as she turned her phone off when it failed to make a connection.

"That's odd, " she commented absently, "the battery must be going dead. Do you have your phone with you, Kome?" she inquired, watching Kome give a negative shake of her head and noting that her face was deathly white.

"Are you all right? You look like you're going to pass out any minute." She frowned in concern, reaching over and taking her friend's arm.

A look that resembled sly satisfaction skittered across Kome's face before her countenance crumpled into a grimace. She collapsed against Momiji, leaning heavily into the smaller girl's frame for support, her hand coming up and firmly grabbing the one that Momiji had placed around her shoulders.

Kome's fingers were numbingly cold and Momiji found that her friend's body was even colder, sending a shudder up her spine. _She's going into shock!_ Momiji thought in alarm and swung her around towards the house.

"No," Kome hissed lowly, discerning Momiji's intent. "You – we cannot go that way."

"But Kome, You're on the verge of collapse. I think it would be best if we got you into the house. That way, we can call for help and then Kusanagi and I can go after Yaegashi – " she suggested. But Kome resisted, and Momiji's mouth fell open as Kome's fingers tightened painfully around her wrist, pulling against her with more strength than Momiji would have thought possible given her condition.

"No," the redhead rejected sharply, tugging even harder and Momiji stumbled at the power behind the gesture.

Something flickered within Kome's deep blue eyes, as Momiji struggled to keep from going to the ground, something akin to violence. It was gone almost instantly, but it gave Momiji a moment of pause, the feeling of unease in her stomach beginning to turn to fear. Something was very wrong here. This was not Kome, a little voice whispered to her even though her eyes told her differently. Reacting on reflex then, Momiji tried to pull way, but Kome thwarted her efforts by slumping against her even more, causing her to stagger under the red-head's weight. Kome's feet began churning then, carrying them towards the line of trees, her grip so tight she restricted the blood flow to Momiji's hand.

Truly scared now, Momiji made several more vain attempts to free herself, gazing in terror at Kome's pale profile. "Who are you?" she whispered, still dragging her feet.

Kome turned to meet Momiji's frightened eyes, a terrible smile contorting her familiar features and exposing long, sharp canine teeth. The pupils in her blue eyes dilated until there was nothing but black, and they bore into Momiji's green ones, dark and compelling. A harsh low laugh rose from Kome's throat as they entered the trees, disappearing from the view of the house.

"So, Kushinada, you have finally realized that I am not your friend. How very astute of you," she remarked in cruel amusement. "But it doesn't matter. Your knowledge has come too late. These trees will shield us from the eyes of your guardian. And by the time he comes to find us, it will be too late."

"Who are you?" Momiji demanded again, this time her voice stronger. "You're not Tengugaki -"

"No," the image of Kome agreed, "I am something far more powerful. Would you like to see with your own eyes?" she asked, and, as she spoke, she stopped moving and let go of Momiji's arm.

Momiji found herself free. But she was still unable to move, as long as her eyes were locked with the black orbs that gazed at her with open hatred and malefic hunger. Unable to do anything but watch, Momiji saw the image of her friend waver before her eyes, replaced by the shadowed figure of a man. His gaunt face was colorless except for the dark eyes that burned with an odd light within their sunken sockets. He didn't look real, Momiji thought. No, she amended, he didn't look alive.

"You see before you, Kushinada, Zan Kazai; a wraith that, unlike the parasitic Tengugaki, knows the real meaning of power," he exclaimed, moving towards her.

Momiji's chest rose and fell rapidly in fear as the wraith stepped closer to her, his cold, harsh breath falling against her face. She wanted to shrink away from him but she couldn't, still trapped by his hungry gaze. His long fingers came up and he caressed Momiji's cheek leaving a trail of numbness where he touched her.

"Do you know what that power is, Kushinada?" he whispered raggedly, leaning forward as if to brush his mouth against hers. Momiji whimpered as he drew closer and the sound seemed to give him pleasure. An ugly smile carved itself across his mouth and just before his lips touched hers, he stayed his motion, hovering centimeters away from her. "_You _are that power, Kushinada. For you are all that lies between me and removing Akumakai from his throne within the Withered Kingdom.

"I was sent here to kill the child, you know. To kill him and take his mitamas back to the great and all-powerful Arch Daemon, Akumakai. But then, I decided that that wouldn't be a very wise thing to do, for it would only serve to free the Tengugaki and give them unlimited control in your world, while accomplishing nothing for myself beyond the empty accolades of their unworthy leader. What good are words, I ask you, when they do not bring me the power that I crave?

"Yes, I quickly realized that there was a much more efficacious way of gaining the power that I desire. Shall I tell you what it is?" He asked idly as his fingers continued to stroke against her cheeks. "Since they have yet to obtain the hybrid child, the Tengugaki are still vulnerable to the power of your sacrifice. If you are gone, then my way to Akumakai's throne would be assured. So you see, while killing the child would gain me nothing, killing you, would accomplish a great deal. But before I do," he whispered, finally closing what little distance that still separated them so that his lips were against hers, "I want to taste you, drink that which the gods have granted to the earth as a means of salvation."

He slid his lips against hers in a mockery of a kiss and her skin crawled at the lifeless feel of his touch. His dark, violent eyes continued to pierce her, and Momiji felt tears of violation form at the corners of her eyes. Standing so close to her, the waves of raw power fairly crashed through him, exciting him in ways that he hadn't experienced in all the centuries that he had wandered the Road of Death, and he wanted more. Increasing the pressure of his lips, his fingers came up and pulled sharply against Momiji's chin and with a moan, Momiji tried to keep her teeth clenched shut. But Zan Kazai would not be denied his growing lust for her power, and the strength of his grip proved too much for her. Her mouth was forced open and she felt him open his at the same time. Momiji braced herself for the invasion of his tongue, but it never came. Instead, Zan Kazai drew in a deep breath and Momiji choked in shocked response, unable to breathe, as the air was sucked from her body.

With a growl of pleasure at the sweet flow of her power, Zan Kazai wrapped his fingers around the sides of Momiji's head and sealed his mouth even more tightly around hers to keep her breath from escaping into the atmosphere. Taking another deep breath, he eagerly drank in the flow of life from Momiji's body, once again, wishing that he had the means to permanently capture its potency within his body, instead of being forced to feel it fade away almost as quickly as he drew it from her.

Zan Kazai kept her locked in his embrace for several moments until he felt her body begin to weaken as she approached unconsciousness from lack of oxygen. He could have ended it then, but he didn't. Instead he pulled his mouth from hers, to allow her to breathe, but kept his hands on both sides of her head and waited. He wasn't quite ready to kill her just yet. He still had a little time and he planned on savoring her power for just a while longer.

Momiji almost gagged as she gulped air into her lungs, and Zan Kazai laughed at her frantic efforts to catch her breath.

"Are you not ready to die, Kushinada?" he taunted, "I thought that your life would have been spent preparing for that eventuality, since that is what your were born for."

"No," Momiji replied breathlessly, the defiance in her voice strong despite in how thready and weak she sounded. "I am not afraid to die. If you kill me, I will die knowing that the Tengugaki have been vanquished."

At her words, Zan Kazai laughed again. "Once you are dead, the Tengugaki might not be able to break their shackles to the UnderWorld. But you don't think that will make a difference for the humans, do you?" he asked her scornfully, "Once you are gone, I will hold the power that the Daemons of the Underworld are now seeking, and my own army of the dead will march upon the face of the earth. For you humans, the outcome will still be the same; your race will be annihilated. You are such a fool, Kushinada to think you're your death could change the outcome of that!"

Momiji didn't respond, but her heart jumped in her chest when she heard an achingly familiar voice from behind Zan Kazai's back.

"You may think she's a fool, but you're the bigger fool," he growled not far from where they stood, "if you think that I would let you kill Momiji." Momiji heard the rustle of leaves as Kusanagi came closer, his voice rough and hard as he said, "You'll never get the chance to carry out your plans, but if you want to see annihilation, then turn around, you bastard, and face me. I will show you what true annihilation is!"


	33. 32: Lose the Battle, Win The War

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

There was a moment of silence after Kusanagi's words. Momiji wanted to call out to him, but she found that she couldn't. More of Zan Kazai's powers she surmised as she watched the wraith's eyes narrow for a fraction of a heartbeat. Her heart squeezed itself into a tight ball. She wished she could warn Kusanagi about the wraith's strange abilities, and she prayed at the same time that Kusanagi's mitamas might offer him some immunity to them.

With little effort, Zan Kazai jerked Momiji's body around, her limp feet dragging heavily through the dead leaves, so that she stood with her back to Kusanagi; a barrier between the withered shade and her furious protector. Zan Kazai quickly searched his memory, trying to recall what name the Kushinada had used to refer to her half-human, half-Aragami guardian. His lip curled in satisfaction as he remembered it. This was going to be all too easy.

"Ahh, _Kusanagi_, " Zan Kazai remarked in an almost bored voice, never lifting his dark eyes away from Momiji. "I didn't think it would take you long. Although, I wish it had taken you just a few minutes longer – just long enough so I might have further… enjoyed… the company of your Kushinada."

His words fueled the rage bubbling over inside Kusanagi. He wanted to kill this twisted freak more than anything. But before he did, he would smash the bastard's face in for daring to touch Momiji.

"Lay another finger on her, and I'll strangle you with your own intestines!" Kusanagi growled, his jaw clenched tightly as he came to a stop just a few feet from where Zan Kazai still held Momiji captive.

Zan Kazai's only reaction was a cold laugh. A contemptuous smile twisted across his cadaverous face, aimed at Kusanagi, but the wraith made sure to hold Momiji with his power by keeping his malignant gaze trained to the helpless green of her eyes.

"Your words are so bold - and so… deplorably stupid. I'm disappointed, Kusanagi. I would have thought that being part Aragami, you would exhibit more control." He heaved a sigh of mock resignation that made Kusanagi ball his hands into fists by his sides so tightly that they shook. "- I guess I overestimated your worth as a fighter. After all; you _are _nothing more than a human; and an average one at that if you allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. Even now, you have yet to grasp the danger that is all around you."

Kusanagi's eyes flickered dismissively over the wasted figure standing before him.

"Is this where I'm supposed to give you the once over and become intimidated by your awesome power?" Kusanagi smiled humorlessly. "Sorry, but that's not happening – not in this lifetime."

Instead of angering Zan Kazai, Kusanagi's flippant retort seemed to please the wraith. Zan Kazai laughed softly again, confident that the Kushinada's energy pulse was his for the taking. The only thing standing in his way was this angry, young guardian who had yet to feel the sting of real battle. Zan Kazai paused consideringly for a moment. Destroying this boy of a man's bravado held great appeal for Zan Kazai. He would make sure that Kusanagi fully understood just how out of his depth he was before he died.

"Hmm," the wraith began in a meditative sort of way, "you have somehow received the impression that your strongest enemy has been vanquished. How shortsighted you are, Kusanagi. Did you really believe that in killing Tamanasu, you and the rest of humanity would prevail over the Withered Kingdom?" Zan Kazai laughed again, an unpleasant hissing sound, and then murmured, "I wonder what you would do if you knew that Tamanasu wasn't truly dead?"

Zan Kazai indulged himself in a gloating smile and trailed a skeletal hand down the length of Momiji's hair, petting its silky softness to further goad his opponent.

"Poor Kusanagi, " he crooned to Momiji, his hand coming around to caress her face with his cold fingers, making her skin crawl, "he doesn't realize that you cannot kill what is already dead. "

Kusanagi stifled the urge to leap forward and rip Zan Kazai's arm off as he watched him touch Momiji. But with great effort he managed to hang on to his temper. The wraith was only trying to goad him into acting rashly. Kusanagi steadily eyed Zan Kazai's spectral visage. He was too relaxed, too confident. It put Kusanagi on edge as he watched him, looking for an opening, an opportunity to get Momiji free.

"- There are other Tengugaki out there, you know." Even though he was still talking to Kusanagi, he had yet to look away from Momiji. "- Nine, to be precise: all hell sprung sentinels of Akumakai, Arch Daemon of the Underworld. – Nine completely new Tengugaki to oppose you, slithering underground, hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance to strike, coveting the hybrid's souls. Listen closely, Kusanagi. Perhaps you can hear them moving towards the hybrid child, closing in on the spot behind the tree where you left him, unprotected." Zan Kazai's laughter hissed with cruelty. He sensed Kusanagi's intense focus wavering away from him and he reveled in his ability to affect him. "Are you surprised that I know where the child is?" Zan Kazai asked in malicious amusement. His question was met with silence, but he hadn't really expected Kusanagi to answer. The Aragami hybrid was too busy trying to discern if there truly were Tengugaki skulking around.

"Perhaps it would interest you to know that the Tengugaki can sense him as well." Zan Kazai added. "His energy pattern is unmistakable, and it makes him an easy target to find. So tell me, Kusanagi, now that you know your enemy knows exactly where to find you, how can you dare to leave such an incredible prize all alone?

Kusanagi moved restlessly, afraid to entirely shift his focus away from Momiji, but afraid that if he didn't, Noa might be in jeopardy. Stretching the edges of his senses, he tried to feel the presence of the Tengugaki. He could feel nothing. The power that Kaede had bestowed upon him, assured him that the child was safe, and yet he remained hesitant. If he charged forward and this was indeed some sort of ruse on the Tengugaki's part, then he left Noa unguarded. But, on the other hand, if there truly were no Tengugaki … then the only one in danger was Momiji. His senses screamed to attack, and yet he still held back, knowing that he could afford no mistakes. He must make certain that the Tengugaki never had a chance to take Noa's souls.

"You don't seem too eager to protect the Aragami child. Perhaps you do not care if he is taken?" Zan Kazai observed waiting for a reaction from Kusanagi, and when he received none, added, "or perhaps you are more interested in the prize I am holding. Is that it, Kusanagi?"

Zan Kazai again waited for Kusanagi's response. But Kusanagi ignored him for the moment, continuing to search for signs of Tengugaki. Nothing. All was quiet. Now he was doubly certain there were none, and he felt completely sure that he could now focus entirely on freeing Momiji from Zan Kazai.

"So which is it, Kusanagi? Which is most important to you? The Tengugaki will be here at any moment, to rend the hybrid apart; so which do you choose? - The fate of your world; or this - " Zan Kazai let his bony hand slide down Momiji's hair. "- the life of this one girl?"

His world? Kusanagi thought. Momiji _was_ his world.

Zan Kazai thought for a moment that Kusanagi would choose not to answer. But then he heard the Aragami warrior's steady voice offer a reply that caused the girl he was holding captive to sharply draw in her breath.

"For me, they are one in the same," he finally replied, and then scowled, "not that it matters. You can't fool me with your tricks. There are no Tengugaki here, so the 'hybrid' child, as you call him, is safe for the moment."

"For once your assessment is correct, Kusanagi," Zan Kazai offered with tepid approval. "How fortunate for me, the Tengugaki are currently too busy harvesting human energy to come after the hybrid souls. They will wait until the darkness of the new moon has fallen; for that is when Akumakai's bastard creation, Tamanasu, will be reborn. I imagine that by then, the Sentinels would have amassed enough energy so that when combined with Tamanasu's strength, there would be no force on the face of the earth that would be capable of stopping them." Zan Kazai paused before adding, "Of course, by killing your Kushinada, none of that will come to pass, since the Tengugaki need the hybrid's souls to be immune to her power. Her death will effectively put the hybrid child forever beyond their reach. And once they are out of the way, those hybrid souls will be mine, and Akumakai will be forced to accede to my power!"

A twisted anticipation began building in the wraith's face. Kusanagi recognized it as bloodlust, and he knew he had to do something now and quickly; before it was too late. But what? There was no way to attack the wraith head on. Zan Kazai would surely kill Momiji before he had taken a dozen steps forward. Perhaps, Kusanagi thought desperately, if he could find a way to draw him out, then he might have a chance. And if that didn't work, then… Kusanagi refused to think beyond that. It would work. It had to!

"Dream all you want, you'll never get close enough to the souls as long as I'm standing here," Kusanagi assured him darkly.

"And what makes you think that you can stop me?" Zan Kazai challenged.

"I stopped Tamanasu didn't I? Compared to him, you're nothing but a wasted shadow, cowering behind a woman."

A brief flicker of irritation flashed across Zan Kazai's face before it disappeared. Kusanagi felt a moment of satisfaction for he knew he had captured the wraith's attention for the moment. That look of twisted anticipation had faded.

"You dare to compare me to Tamanasu?" Zan Kazai said, his breath coming out in a feral hiss.

"What's there to compare?" Kusanagi retorted caustically. "You say you're more powerful than the Lord of the Withered Kingdom, and yet you remain afraid to face me without a human shield. If you're so confident in your abilities, then why don't you stop hiding, you miserable bastard! Come out and face me now!"

Kusanagi watched Zan Kazai's hands loosen from Momiji's shoulders and he thought he had succeeded in drawing him out. But Zan Kazai didn't move forward. Instead the wraith gave a hissing laugh. It echoed around them for a few seconds before Zan Kazai replied.

"And why should I do that?" he asked, malicious amusement lacing his words, "When I can kill you from here. Kusanagi?"

Before Kusanagi realized what was happening, Zan Kazai became blurred, the outline of his body seeming to vaporize. Kusanagi blinked several times, attempting to bring his vision into focus and shake the sense of heaviness that suddenly assailed his senses. Seconds later, he was staggering clumsily backwards, a stinging pain blossoming in his shoulder. With a jerk, he reached up and grasped at the sensation, the palm of his hand becoming, wet and warm. Dazed, he pulled his fingers away from his shoulder and glanced down in surprise to see that his hand was covered with dark green blood: his blood.

Kusanagi tightened his lips to keep them from falling open in shock. He didn't want the wraith to know how off balance his attack had made him. The twisted bastard had managed to strike him! Zan Kazai chortled, and Kusanagi listened to the rusty hiss of his laughter as he stared down at his hand.

Dammit! He obviously had some kind of special attack, Kusanagi growled at himself in irritation. No wonder he had been so confident.

Dropping his hand back to his side, Kusanagi unsheathed his blades and stared darkly at Zan Kazai. Just how the hell had he done that, Kusanagi couldn't fathom. Not only had he not seen him move, but he also hadn't sensed his movement either. Zan Kazai couldn't possible be that quick, could he? A wary tension began to grip Kusanagi's stomach as he grappled with the problem of defending against an unseen attacker.

"Where is your threat of annihilation now, Kusanagi?" Zan Kazai taunted. "As you can clearly see, any lessons in annihilation will come from me, not you," he determined and, as if to prove his point, his body once again blurred and Kusanagi felt the wraith slicing into his other shoulder before he could move to defend himself.

Zan Kazai was toying with him, enjoying seeing the pain and frustration etched across his face and it infuriated Kusanagi to no end.

"Perhaps it will comfort you to know that I plan on killing you before I kill your Kushinada," Zan Kazai told him. "But before I do, I think I'll have a little more fun with you."

No! Momiji mentally screamed. She was panic stricken when she realized that Kusanagi had no defense against the wraith. So it took her a few seconds to realize that during Zan Kazai's initial attack against Kusanagi, that she had experienced a few fleeting seconds of freedom from his black gaze. It happened so quickly that she wasn't even sure it was real. But when it happened again, the second time the wraith struck, Momiji was certain of it.

It made sense, she thought with a growing sense of hope. For Zan Kazai to use his power against Kusanagi, he would have to take his focus away from her – even if it was for just the briefest of moments.

This was her chance! She would have to be quick, but if she kept her wits about her, she might be able to break free.

Holding her breath, Momiji waited for her next opportunity. When it came, she wasted no time. Raising her arms, she quickly pushed free from Zan Kazai's hands. Ignoring the stiff numbness that had seeped into her legs, she twisted around, chestnut strands of hair falling into her eyes from the suddenness of her movements. She began sprinting away from the wraith, her green eyes pinned to Kusanagi praying that she could reach his side.

Momentarily caught of guard by Momiji's sudden escape, Zan Kazai pulled back from Kusanagi without landing another blow, his focus jerking towards Momiji's back as she scrambled for safety. Moving with lightning speed he reached a hand out to stop her, his claws raking down her back and thigh, easily tearing through the fabric of her coat, shirt and slacks to score her flesh before he managed to push her off balance.

"Kusanagi! Don't look at him! It's his eyes! He's trying to control you!" she screamed even as she felt a burning sensation slash into her before Zan Kazai's stabbing claws pushed her to the ground.

She landed with a hard thud and immediately felt the coldness of Zan Kazai settle on top of her as he straddle her body in a low crouch. Kusanagi was on the move towards them, sensing an open opportunity. Zan Kazai jerked his head around and glared at him, managing to slow him down. Zan Kazai had made an error in underestimating the determination of the Kushinada, and he realized he was in serious jeopardy of losing control of the situation. He refused to let that happen. The Kushinada's power _would _be his! Raising his arm, he flexed the long points of his claws and prepared to sink them into the back of Momiji's skull. But despite having used his power to slow Kusanagi's movements, the half-human, half-Aragami was already upon them and Zan Kazai was forced to dematerialize before Kusanagi's blade smashed into his own skull.

Kusanagi whirled around, looking wildly about for the wraith. But he was nowhere to be seen.

"Momiji! Are you all right?" he asked tensely, not daring to look at her as he searched the clearing for their enemy.

"Behind you!" Momiji screamed frantically as she shakily pushed herself to her knees.

Immediately, Kusanagi spun around. He managed to get his blade up in barely enough time to parry Zan Kazai's long claws. Countering, Kusanagi used his other arm and he slashed forward, feeling his movements slowing to what seemed like an infinitesimal crawl as he locked gazes with his enemy. By the time he once again had full range of speed, the wraith was gone, and Kusanagi's blade swept through nothing but air.

"Don't look at him, Kusanagi! He's slowing you down!" He heard Momiji urge him from behind as she tried to scramble to her feet.

"How the hell am I supposed to hit him if I don't look at him, Momiji?" Kusanagi demanded, aggravation tempering his voice. His gaze swept around the eerily quiet clearing and after a moment, he called out, "Why don't you come out and fight!?"

Kusanagi whipped from left to right repeatedly, stretching all of his senses; but still, he couldn't sense the wraith. By now Momiji was back on her feet and he took several steps back until he felt the back of his shirt brush against her arm. Reaching around, he pulled at her arm to bring her to his side. "I don't want to put too much distance between us – it might give him the opportunity he is looking for to get you. So stay close, Momiji."

"Yes, by all means, make it easy for me," came a hissing voice right in Kusanagi's ear.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kusanagi saw the wraith re-materializing. Immediately he turned, and the long thin claws that Zan Kazai had extended to slash across his neck, instead sank into his already bleeding shoulder and bicep, throwing him backwards.

He scrambled to get up, fear clenching his gut as he saw Zan Kazai's claws arc towards Momiji. A raw scream rose to his throat, when he felt his senses dull and realized he wasn't going to be quick enough to save her. "Run Momiji!"

Momiji had seen Zan Kazai swing at her before Kusanagi's shouted warning and she had already turned and started running. She knew from the wraith's displeased hiss that his first attack had missed and she didn't dare turn her head to see if he was close enough to try again. She made it as far as the edge of the trees, a towering oak in front of her, before cold fingers gripped her around her arm and she was stopped dead in her tracks.

Momiji let out a cry as Zan Kazai savagely jerked her back by her arm. She found herself dragged around to face him and shoved up hard against the bark of the oak. Quickly he raised a hand and grabbed a fistful of hair close to her skull, yanking ruthlessly upon it so that her chin was forced upwards. Momiji kept her eyes averted from him. Desperately she pushed against him, struggling with all her might to free herself. But still he held her close, the coldness of his breath falling against the exposed skin of her neck.

"Goodbye Kushinada," he whispered, raising his deadly claws.

"NO! DAMMIT, _NO_!" Kusanagi screamed, moving towards them quicker now that the wraith had once again turned his attention to Momiji. He was only seconds away from them, but it might as well be miles, because it was still too far to stop Zan Kazai.

Momiji closed her eyes.

"I've failed… Kusanagi – I'm sorry, " Momiji whispered to herself. She waited for Zan Kazai's claws to plunge downwards, holding her breath, waiting for death to come.

But it didn't come. What came was a low hissing; a sound very dissimilar to Zan Kazai's breathing, but a noise that appeared to be coming from the wraith all the same. And smoke too, Momiji realized, opening her eyes as a rusty screech raked across her eardrums. Suddenly she was free, her jelly legs not strong enough to hold her up. The hissing continued as she slid downwards in a bumpy fashion, her coat snagging against the rough bark of the tree as she went. Disoriented, she watched, mystified as Zan Kazai backed away from her, unsure of what had caused him to let go. Her green eyes were quickly drawn to his deadly claws, and she noticed that they – no – not just his claws, but his entire arm - was nothing but a cloud of heavy, yellowish looking smoke.

She didn't get a chance to study it any further because Kusanagi was there, lunging forward in a rabid frenzy, inches away from Zan Kazai. The wraith knew he was there and despite the heavy yellow smoke, he was able to dematerialize again. Kusanagi howled in frustration as he stumbled through him, almost crashing into Momiji before he managed to turn and fall unevenly to the ground beside her, his chest heaving. Blood dripped down his arms and there was a crazed look in his eye as he scrambled back to his feet and stood defensively in front of Momiji. He eyed the thick yellow smoke that still hung in the air before he once again searched futilely for their invisible enemy.

"What happened just now?" Momiji asked breathlessly, "all that smoke… Where did it come from?"

Before Kusanagi could answer her, Momiji heard a very familiar, sultry laugh, from behind the other side of the oak tree and watched as Sakura stepped into view, dressed in her full priestess robes with a Talisman clutched between her fingers.

"It came from me, of course," Sakura replied, looking down at Momiji with a catlike smile before turning her head away and surveying the scene in front of her.

"Sak –" Momiji began but Sakura quickly stopped her.

"Don't say my name – you'll just give him more power" she warned, and then she turned her head and looked out into the clearing. "You may be able to outmaneuver this Neanderthal with your petty tricks," she said jerking her head in Kusanagi's direction as her eyes pivoted slowly, following her invisible opponent, "but you can't get away from me!"

With a dramatic gesture, she held the Talisman poised in front of her for a brief second. Then with a flick of her wrist, she sent it zooming forward where it appeared to stop midair without hitting anything. But Momiji knew it had found its target, because Zan Kazai began to rematerialize. Sakura's Talisman, which had forced him back into his corporeal state, was pinned to his shoulder. Before he could remove it, Sakura had another one ready, and with another well-aimed flick, it struck Zan Kazai in the forehead. There was the same hissing, sizzling noise as before, and Momiji watched as Zan Kazai screeched and began to shake, scrabbling unsuccessfully to remove the destructive Talisman. The hissing continued, getting louder as his body began to disintegrate, becoming thick whorls of yellowish smoke, his screeches becoming hollow and thin as the power in Sakura's charm melted him.

It lasted only seconds, and when all that remained was a heavy, sulfuric cloud of smoke, the hissing stopped and Sakura's Talisman fluttered innocuously to the ground.

There was a prolonged silence as everyone stared at it and then Momiji asked in a hesitant voice, "Is he dead?"

Sakura laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, "Dead?" she repeated, looking down at Momiji, "He's deader than dead, Momiji. His energy has been completely negated, which means that he won't be coming back here or returning to wherever it is that he came from."

"The Withered Kingdom," Momiji supplied as Kusanagi reached down and helped her to her feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked, worriedly eyeing her pale countenance.

Momiji nodded, but he frowned uncertainly, noting how wobbly she was.

Sakura's elegant sandy brows went soaring at Momiji's information. "Oh really," she hummed, "- the Withered Kingdom… how very interesting. And he came for you and not the baby?"

"From what he said, it sounded like he wanted to overthrow the Tengugaki," Momiji replied. "- And speaking of the baby where is he? Is he all right?" She asked, her eyes swinging towards Kusanagi.

"You wouldn't have to ask me that if you hadn't just gone and left him," Kusanagi scowled.

"Well," Momiji stuttered in defense, "I thought Kome and Yaegashi had been attacked by the Tengugaki"

Kusanagi scowled even harder and leaned towards her to utter accusingly, "No, Momiji, that's just it - you didn't stop to think! If you had, then you would have realized that there _were _no Tengugaki." He stopped, straightened and crossed his arms in a domineering pose. "Did you sense any Tengugaki, Momiji?"

Momiji looked away.

"No," she replied in a small voice.

Kusanagi's hard expression wavered and disappeared when he saw Momiji's fallen expression. He hadn't meant to sound quite so - harsh. "Momiji, I… It's just that…" he began gruffly, trying to soften his words, "when you run off like that, Momiji, I can't protect you – "

Sakura rolled her eyes and heaved an impatient sigh. Watching them was worse than watching a soap opera. "If you're looking for the Aragami sprout," she cut in, answering Momiji's earlier question, he's behind this tree, fast asleep – " she broke off when the sound of a wail cut across her words. She gave a brittle smile then. "Well, he _was _asleep – but how he slept through the ruckus you guys were making is beyond me! I guess those little buggers only wake up when they want to, eh?"

"I guess," Momiji replied with a small smile, looking uncertainly at Kusanagi before she stepped around the tree to get the baby.

"Stop being so rough on her, Carrot Boy, or you'll never get anywhere," she advised him quietly, looking up at him.

Kusanagi hesitated, then gave a curt nod of agreement. Then he shot her an enigmatic look, and she stared quizzically back at him. An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Kusanagi was all too aware that if not for Sakura, he and Momiji most likely would not have survived their fight against the wraith. Sakura continued to watch him, and then a look of understanding flashed in her crimson eyes and she looked away from him, her gaze going to where Momiji crouched behind the tree trying to comfort Noa.

"It looked like you were having a hard time, earlier, Carrot Boy," she murmured casually as she watched Momiji unstrap the baby from his carrier to lift him to her shoulder. "Didn't think you were going reach Momiji in time to save the day." There was a pregnant pause and then she added, " - You didn't mind my stepping in, did you?" She was unable to keep just a trace of smugness from her voice. She was, after all, the best thing that the TAC had…

Kusanagi frowned, taking exception to the tone of her voice. "How did you know to come here?" he asked repressively, evading her question to avoid any further gloating on her part.

"Simple," she replied, "I saw that wraith back at the lab earlier. I wasn't certain what it was he was after – most spirits of his nature are not that powerful nor are they quite that... virulent. They usually lack the focus necessary to be harmful. If I had known the true extent of his capabilities I would have warned you. As it is, I'm glad that I went back to my apartment to get my things. I don't think I could have beaten him without my Talismans.

"Anyway, after gearing up, I headed straight for Momiji's house. But by then you guys were already gone, and so I just followed the wake of his energy. "

There was a moment of silence between them in which Kusanagi struggled with the innate sense of rivalry that he had with Sakura and the bizarre and uncomfortable feeling of gratitude that he was laboring under before finally saying in a strained voice, "Sakura…"

For a moment, all that could be heard was the muted sound of Momiji's voice as she tried to quiet the squalling infant.

"Yes?" Sakura finally prompted curiously when he said nothing more but just stood there with an unpleasant look on his face as if he had just swallowed a big green glob of what had exploded earlier at the lab.

"- What I said earlier – about you being a quack psychic – I take it back," he finally managed in a choked voice, his repelled expression becoming more pronounced. He took a deep breath, afraid he wouldn't get through what he had to say if he didn't, and finished, "You truly are talented – you have shown that to me today."

At his admission, Sakura looked stunned for a moment, but then she gave him a wide, toothy smile. "Yes, I know," she purred, "I'm wonderful, aren't I?"

In an odd way, Kusanagi was grateful for her words, for it made those uneasy feelings of gratitude subside. His eyes narrowed then, reveling in the familiarity of the familiar irritation he experienced when he was around her.

"Wonderful?" he echoed with a snort, "I wouldn't go that far! You're still a flake; you always will be, no matter how talented you are. - And by the way, what is those big black splotches on your face and in your hair?"

Sakura's smile evaporated at his question and she shifted uncomfortably, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly without saying anything.

"Oh," Momiji began, coming around the tree. She inserted herself into the conversation as Noa hiccoughed noisily, "That's from the exploding coffee – I mean –" Momiji hastened to correct herself as she watched Sakura's scowl swing in her direction, "that's from the exploding… _formula _at the lab – Matsu warned me to tell you any exposed skin that it made contact with would turn black and the color would only wear off with time. I'm sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but I just forgot."

Kusanagi gave a short bark of laughter then and Sakura's face puckered into a deeper scowl.

"I'll say one thing for you, Cherry Blossom, you don't do things halfway," Kusanagi remarked dryly, shaking his head as he watched the skin beneath the black splotches take on flushed hue, "I can only hope that the next time you try cooking again, you'll wear protective clothing – like safety glasses and a rubber suit."

Sakura's mouth tightened into a mutinous line and she began muttering under her breath. Momiji strained to hear her, but couldn't because Noa's hiccoughs were getting louder again, becoming long wails, despite the comforting pats she was giving to his back.

Sakura quit muttering and shot a dark look at the infant and asked in a waspish voice, "What's his problem? Can't you shut him up, Momiji?"

Momiji shrugged her shoulders helplessly and replied, "I think he's hungry."

"Well feed the little termite, so he'll quite bawling!" Sakura urged, the sound of gusty cries jangling her nerves.

"I don't have anything to feed him here – I need to go back to the house," Momiji replied, giving Sakura an apologetic look.

"Fine, - we're done here anyways," Sakura said looking back at the Talisman that lay on the ground. "Like I said, you won't have to worry about him anymore."

"And we won't have to worry about the Tengugaki coming for Noa either – at least until the new moon," Kusanagi observed, "which will give us a little breathing room and hopefully allow us to come up with a better way of fighting the Tengugaki."

"New moon," Sakura asked in a puzzled voice, "so how long is that?"

"I thought you were a priestess," Kusanagi replied, raising an eyebrow at the blonde. "Aren't priestesses supposed to keep track of things like the phases of the moon?"

Sakura snorted in disgust, "That's for witches, Kusanagi," she told him dismissively, "or do you think that priestesses ride around on broomsticks too?"

"No, just you," he murmured in a voice almost too low for her to hear. She shot him a suspicious glance and he gave her an innocent look then changed the subject. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe we are one or two days beyond a new moon. That would put the next new moon in approximately twenty-five days or so from now – a little more than three weeks. We'll have to work fast to try and take down all nine of Tengugaki before they can gather any more energy." He mused silently for a second and then, turning to Sakura, he gave her a speculative glance. "If it's true what Zan Kazai said – that Tamanasu isn't dead - do you think that you could use the same kind of Talisman on the nine Tengugaki in Tokyo that you used on the wraith - to permanently take them down?"

Sakura shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno; it all depends on the nature of the entity we're dealing with – and the type of energy that it is." Seeing Kusanagi's inquiring look, she added, "Wraiths are single energy entities. They can be powerful, but their energy is not a complex wave pattern, so it's easy to deconstruct their energy. The Tengugaki on the other hand… they are completely different. Their energy patterns are very complex- almost as if they are multiple souls compressed into one."

"Does that mean you can't do it then?" Kusanagi asked in disappointment.

Sakura's lips thinned in irritation. She hated any inference that there was something that lay beyond her capabilities. But, unfortunately, in this case, that inference was correct.

"There's probably not a whole lot I can do, Kusanagi. I might be able to disperse the wave energy but I doubt I can destroy it completely. Dispersing it with a Talisman would basically have the same effect as one of your attacks that shatters the Tengugaki's mitama. It doesn't really kill it – it only sends it back to where it came from. And if it's provided a proper catalyst, the same source of creation, it can be reharvested and resolidified."

"Then how are we supposed to keep them from coming back?" Momiji wanted to know.

"We find the source and destroy it," Kusanagi replied grimly.

"I wonder if that would be Akumakai," Momiji ventured, biting her bottom lip. "Zan Kazai referred to him as the Arch Daemon of the Withered Kingdom."

"If he's the Arch Daemon, then he would be the one to go after," Sakura replied. "But unless he comes to us, I don't see how we are going to get to him."

"Nothing is impossible," Kusanagi said after a moment. "If there isn't a path, then we'll make one."

"Easy for you to say, Carrot Boy," Sakura retorted, "but I don't think your brute strength is going to let you batter your way into the Withered Kingdom - "

"It's gotten me into the Kingdom of Darkness, which is a hell of a lot farther than your knowledge from the Kusamikado school, has gotten you, isn't it?" he shot back.

"-Besides, you have no idea what you would find once you were there," Sakura continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. "The world of the spirits is far different from anything you're used to, Kusanagi. Can you imagine battling an endless number of entities like Zan Kazai?" she challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Kusanagi admitted grudgingly, "I suppose not. Then the only way to defeat Akumakai is to smoke him out – perhaps if we defeat enough of his Tengugaki, he'll have no choice but to come for Noa's souls himself. But god knows how many of those godforsaken fiends we're talking about before that happens!"

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of Noa's cries and Sakura gritted her teeth, unable to think because of all of the noise he was making. After a few seconds, she shot a pained look at Noa and Momiji. His wails were like a sharp knife against a rope – and it was fast fraying her patience.

"I don't care what you say," Sakura huffed suddenly jabbing a finger at the baby, "this kid is just like you Kusanagi. He's loud and obnoxious! He's got to be yours!"

Kusanagi's face darkened, but before he could make a furious reply, Sakura, finally unable to bear the blustering cries any longer, threw up her hands, turned on her heel and stomped past Momiji, heading back towards Momiji's house. "I don't think I can handle standing here, listening to his screeching for one minute longer." She flipped a look back over her shoulder at Kusanagi and Momiji. "You two look pretty banged up and in need of some serious attention." She paused and looked slyly at Kusanagi. "- I wonder who'll get to play doctor first: you or Momiji?" She gave a sultry laugh then added with a sly smile, "it should make for a memorable evening anyway. Oh – and Kusanagi," she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I know that doctors wear gloves during… _examinations…_ but in this case, I would leave them off." Her crimson eyes flickered down to his bare hands. "It will make things more interesting." Resuming her normal, insouciant voice, she bid them farewell. "Well I'm off to Tokyo," she wiggled her fingers at them and smiled brilliantly, " Ta ta!"

She just couldn't leave well enough alone, could she, Kusanagi fumed in irritation, choosing to say nothing as she left.

Momiji didn't say anything either. She just watched Sakura go, shooting Kusanagi an apprehensive look after the priestess was no longer visible through the trees. Just as she had feared; he had that riled expression on his face; his cat like eyes were narrowed and his jaw was clenched tightly in irritation. Adjusting the squirming baby against her shoulder Momiji sighed. She pushed Sakura's troublesome words aside, and thought instead about the things that had been revealed about the Tengugaki and the Arch Daemon Akumakai.

"I really think we should head back to the house now. Noa is really hungry," she advised a little absentmindedly, her eyes flickering over Kusanagi's stiff posture before she turned and began trudging the same path Sakura had taken. "I don't think he is going to be happy until he gets what he wants." She threw back over her shoulder at him.

"_Harrumph_… That makes two of us," Kusanagi grumbled in a low, dissatisfied voice.


	34. 33: Ties That Bind?

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Momiji was breathless from exertion by the time they got near the house. Noa's cries had not let up, and his discomfort had only added to her anxiety, making her feel neglectful by allowing him to cry so much. Perhaps that explained why she had all but broken into a flat out run, doing her best to ignore the pain in her back caused by the jarring motions of her stride. Bouncing and tripping her way through the trees, she kept up her hectic pace until she was in her backyard. Then she slowed, trying to catch her breath and hoped that the restrained movement would help her pain to subside.

Even as preoccupied as she had been with getting home as quickly as possible, there was still a part of her brain that was free enough to think about Kusanagi on the way back. She wondered if he was still behind her. She told herself it was absurd to think otherwise, but he had been so silent that she hadn't even been able to hear his footfalls. She was about to turn and look; but no, she realized as she continued to walk forwards and saw his shadow overtake hers. He was there. Momiji reflected at that point that perhaps his silence was accounted for by the fact that he was still seething over Sakura's catty remarks.

But she discovered that wasn't the case when he stepped around her and opened the door for her. She looked up at him as she swept past him and she glimpsed concern in eyes despite his effort to hide it behind his drooping eyelids. He returned her gaze, but remained silent, and oddly enough, his concern relieved her. It meant that he wasn't thinking about Sakura anymore, which to Momiji, was a very good thing.

"Don't worry, Kusanagi," Momiji hastened to assure him, breaking the long silence between them. "I'm sure Noa will be fine once he gets something to eat." She smiled brightly then, completely misinterpreting the focus of his concern altogether.

Sailing into the kitchen, she missed Kusanagi's frown as his eyes flickered dismissively over the baby before settling on her. He took in the chalkiness of her cheeks and the pain behind her eyes, as she went past him, his focus moving with her and lingering on her back, where he stared at the shredded, blood-flecked fabric of what remained of her coat and the seat of her slacks.

Unaware that she was under such intense scrutiny, Momiji absorbed herself in examining the contents on the counter where she had put some of Noa's things earlier. Gently bouncing the inconsolable baby up and down in a rhythmic motion, she thoughtfully chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then eyed Kusanagi speculatively as he quietly closed the door behind him. She was going to have to rely on his help if she wanted to get things prepared in the fastest time possible. Unfortunately, she somehow doubted that he would be thrilled with her plan, considering that he had yet to really warm up to Noa. Well, she thought, mentally straightening her shoulders, like it or not, he was going to help. She would find a way to make him, she told herself.

Wheeling in his direction, she opened her mouth to speak to him, but before she could say anything, he stepped towards her, his eyes sweeping intently over her face.

"How is your back, Momiji?" he wanted to know as he moved closer.

"It's – fine," she mumbled dismissively. It was still hurting a little bit, although, nothing like it had been while she'd been running. But she didn't want to think about that right now, she wanted to concentrate on Noa and getting Kusanagi to help her. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "Kus –" but that was a far as she got before he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, without so much as a, 'Let me see for myself".

"You're awfully pale," Kusanagi observed softly, and Momiji, despite the distracting wails of Noa, could hear the thread of concern lacing his words, and something else, something that sounded – softer?

What was it? She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it sounded… nice.

Whatever it was, it brought her a spark of unexpected pleasure, but Momiji tried to brush it aside. Noa was her first priority.

"Pale? Really? Well, I'm still feeling fine, so –" Momiji suddenly ground to a halt because of Kusanagi's fingers. They had been resting on her shoulders, but now they began trailing softly down her back, making her heart go crazy.

Just what exactly was he _doing_? Momiji wondered wide-eyed, fighting to maintain control of her breathing as a pleasant haze began to dull her focus. She didn't have to wonder long, however when stabs of pain went shooting up her back, cutting through the fog and exploding into fire. Kusanagi had tentatively tugged at her coat, and Momiji's body jerked in reaction causing another round of pain to shoot up her spine before she was able to jump away from him.

"_Yiiah!_" she yelped, lurching around to glare at him.

Her cheeks were even whiter than before, and the unfocused green of her eyes gave Kusanagi the impression that she might pass out. He took a concerned step towards her. But she held her hand out in front of her to keep him away, taking a few deep breaths to try and steady herself. After several tense seconds, the look passed and Kusanagi relaxed his watchful pose a bit.

"That HURT!" she informed him in a shaky voice, her eyes glaring reproachfully at him.

"So you _are _in pain, then," he accused.

"Well I hadn't been until you tried to pry the skin from my back!" she defended with a grimace.

"I was just trying to see how much damage there is," he told her, his finger pointed vaguely at her shoulder. "There's blood all over your coat and pants – "

Momiji stopped him, her eyes flashing. "Yes, I know there is, and you yanking at them isn't going to make it any better – I don't have time to concentrate on it right now, anyway, so -."

Her words made him scowl and he asserted, "No, Momiji, it needs to be attended to now, not later. - Here, just let me -"

He began moving forward, but she staved him off again.

"No, stop!" she demanded peevishly. "Er… that is… I'm fine for the moment!" she attempted to convince him.

His face told her that he didn't believe her, and it was tempting to just let him look so she get on with the things she needed to do. But poor Noa was still crying, and Momiji didn't think she could live with herself if she made him wait while Kusanagi got his way.

"Look, it's better to do the quickest thing first," she reasoned, "and the quickest thing would be to take care of Noa."

Kusanagi gave Momiji a piercing look, his eyes barely acknowledging the infant.

"You're hurt. He's not," he informed her flatly. "Just seeing the blood that's splattered all over you, I know the scratches on your back have to be pretty deep. You need to let me get a better look at it, Momiji –"

"No, Kusanagi!" she heatedly denied. "If it's the blood that concerns you, rest assured that the bleeding has stopped, so I'm in no danger there. It just looks worse than it is."

Kusanagi's stared mutinously at her. That she could stand there, covered in her own blood with that impassive look on her face really angered him. He was still having trouble shaking the terror he had felt in that split second before Sakura had arrived and saved them both. Didn't she even care that he could have lost her? _She should care, dammit_! He muttered to himself, _because he sure as hell never wanted to re-live another moment like that one - EVER._

"Don't you know that you could have died, you little idiot!" he growled, trying to make her understand how much danger she'd been in.

It didn't work because she replied with a touch of asperity, "Well! - So could you!"

Her eyes drifted down to the front of his bloodstained shirt and Kusanagi snorted, crossing his arms in front of chest. "I've already started to heal, Momiji," he informed her a bit sourly. "Don't forget that my body has strong regenerative powers. But yours, Princess, while _very nice_, does not."

Momiji's startled eyes returned to his face at that, and color tinged her cheeks.

"I haven't forgotten," Momiji assured him steadily despite the color. "In fact, I'm counting on that because I need you to help me."

"I am trying to help you!" he railed, exacerbated, "but you 're not letting me!"

"I'm letting you," Momiji contradicted, "But he is what I need help with!" And then Momiji held Noa out in front of her.

Kusanagi quickly uncrossed his arms and straightened up, eyeing the squalling infant with an abashed expression. It was encouraging to note that he seemed to have forgotten about her back for a moment. Now all she had to do was get him to actually take Noa, so she could get to work on preparing his formula. Momiji moved a little closer to Kusanagi, trying to prompt him into holding out his hands, but Kusanagi immediately took a step back.

"Come on, Kusanagi," she pleaded, "you said you wanted to help me – well this will be helping me."

Kusanagi took another step back, away from the purplish, scrunched up baby face.

"That is not what I meant by help," he grumbled.

"Even so," she countered, "It's what I really need you to do right now."

"Why do you want to give him to me?" he grimaced.

"Because I need to get his formula ready," Momiji informed him with strained patience.

"Why don't you let me do that, and you can hold him?" Kusanagi objected.

"Do you know how to make a bottle?" Momiji demanded brusquely

"Well, no –" he replied reluctantly, "but I'm a quick learner."

"I have not doubt," Momiji sighed, "but learning takes time no matter how fast you are. I already know how to do it, though, since I've had my share of babysitting duties - which means that I can still do it faster than you."

Still he made no move to take the baby so Momiji tried changing tactics.

"Just look at him, Kusanagi," she urged, "I know you're… not overly fond of him, but surely you're not going to let him go hungry any longer than he has to?"

Momiji was giving him an expectant look, and so, reluctantly, Kusanagi transferred his gaze from her to the puckered, unhappy little face and then wished he hadn't. Up until now, he'd tried hard not to let his thoughts or emotions dwell too much on Noa, thinking that it would help him to put aside the feelings of hostility he'd experienced upon first seeing the baby. He knew that Noa hadn't chosen to be born the way he was any more than Kusanagi had chosen to become what he was. But Kusanagi also knew that his hatred of the Aragami had become so ingrained, that it was an automatic response no matter what the circumstances. Even now, despite his efforts to the contrary, Kusanagi could feel his emotions beginning to stir, and he tried to prepare himself for what he knew was coming, hoping he could keep the irrational hostility from showing on his face.

Slowly the feelings began to unfurl, and Kusanagi tensed, but they were not at all what he expected. Bemused, Kusanagi examined the burgeoning sense of need welling up inside of him, and tried to understand what it meant. It was so powerful that he stood transfixed by it until he realized it was a compulsion to try and comfort the unhappiness of the tiny baby before him.

Astounded, Kusanagi mechanically reacted, reaching out and taking the baby from Momiji, too absorbed by what he was experiencing to note the relieved expression on her face.

"Thank you, Kusanagi," she breathed gratefully.

Momiji heard Kusanagi mumble some sort of reply as she hastily turned away to get to work, but she'd barely moved, before she stopped and looked back at him. The incessant wailing that had plagued them all the way home had suddenly ceased. Startled, and thinking that perhaps something was wrong, Momiji anxiously eyed the infant in Kusanagi's arms. He seemed to be fine, but a high-pitched, melodic thrumming began to swell within the room and Noa's souls began to glow.

Momiji's mouth fell open as the sound grew in strength and Kusanagi's souls quickly added to the light, pulsating brightly beneath the fabric of his shirt. She watched with growing perplexity, the tiny infant lying nestled within Kusanagi's arms. He had been inconsolable while she'd held him; but he was a different baby altogether now, serenely staring up into Kusanagi's face. Why? The answer had to be the mitamas, she concluded. She watched Noa's pulsating souls for a moment and then looked at the souls in Kusanagi's hands. They were glowing with the same steady rhythm, in time with those of the baby.

Still speechless, Momiji's gaze traveled to Kusanagi's face, wondering what, exactly, was going on. But Kusanagi's stunned countenance offered her no clear explanation. In fact, he seemed oblivious to her at that moment, looking not at her, but down at Noa with a sort of dazed expression. After a moment though, he appeared to pull himself out of it, finally sensing Momiji's eyes resting on him. Forcing himself to look up, he locked gazes with her. He could see the obvious question written on her face, but he was reluctant to say anything. He knew what was happening, but he couldn't explain to her why it was happening.

There was a moment of prolonged silence and Momiji transferred her gaze back to the docile newborn, her head tilted thoughtfully to the side. Then her eyes flickered back to Kusanagi.

She surprised him with her uncanny perception by saying, "He's drawing from your energy, isn't he?"

"And just how did you know that, Princess?" Kusanagi demanded with a start.

Momiji paused, looking at him for a moment longer before she turned away and headed for the counter. "Because," she said as she began preparing the formula and pouring it into an empty bottle, "he's a baby and when babies are hungry, they usually don't stop crying unless they are fed." Momiji stopped speaking while she screwed the lid onto the bottle and then bent down to pull a small saucepan out from beneath the counter. Kusanagi turned his head and followed her movement when she went to the sink to fill it with water. "The minute he stopped crying, his mitamas started to glow," she continued, looking over her shoulder at him before turning to put the bottle in the saucepan and set it on the stove.

While she waited for it to heat, she swiveled around and gave him an appraising look. His handsome face told her nothing of what he was feeling and her eyes slid downwards to his mitamas. They were still glowing.

"First, it was just Noa's mitamas that were glowing, but then yours started glowing too. – So it seemed only natural to think that he had made some kind of connection with you." She gave Kusanagi a thoughtful look, and quietly observed, "He seems to be more comfortable with you than with me. Perhaps in sharing your energy, he is forming some kind of a bond – "

"What do you mean, a bond? What kind of bond?" Kusanagi asked, distracted.

"Hmm. I dunno," Momiji shrugged uncertainly, "maybe it's similar to the bond he would share with his mother."

"His mother?" Kusanagi repeated in an odd voice. "You mean like when his mother would…." He had wanted to say 'breastfeed' but he couldn't seem to get the word out so he ended up saying, "- _nurse_? Is that what you mean?"

Momiji looked a little surprised at that, weighing his words before she answered, "Well, that's not exactly how I meant it, but -" her eyes pivoted from Noa and his mitamas, to Kusanagi and his. "If you think that's what its like... it does seem to be very similar to that, doesn't it?"

Hell no, that wasn't what he thought it was like! Kusanagi thought tersely, roughly denying the idea that he was nursing an Aragami child. Perversely, he pushed aside his earlier feeling of need, and furiously told himself that he refused to bond with an Aragami in _that way_. He didn't even want to bond with a human child in that way! Men just didn't do that sort of thing!

"I wonder if he would react that way with another Aragami or if it's just with you because you're – "

"You'd better not be about to say, 'because you're his father'," Kusanagi interrupted sharply, Sakura's jibes suddenly coming to mind.

Momiji's eyes widened and her mouth snapped shut when she saw the turbulent expression on Kusanagi's face.

She shook her head emphatically, "N-n-o, that's not what I was going to –"

"It's bad enough to imply that I'm a walking breast, Momiji," he shot her a harassed look, "without bringing Sakura's stupid lies into it."

Suddenly he needed to get away. Despite his strenuous vow to the contrary, he couldn't seem to stop the growing feelings of closeness he was experiencing towards Noa. And even though he didn't want to hate the child, Kusanagi wasn't ready to feel this close to him either – even if the newborn was half human like he was. Compressing his lips into a tight line he stalked toward Momiji.

"Here," he mumbled, thrusting the baby at her.

Surprised, Momiji took him without a word, shooting Kusanagi a distressed look. Unaware of the emotions he was laboring under, she thought it was the mention of Sakura that had upset him.

Once the contact between Kusanagi and Noa was broken, the infant whimpered and began to cry. But Kusanagi turned a deaf ear to him and stalked away.

"Kusanagi, please!" Momiji protested, but he didn't turn back. "I didn't mean to imply – " she tried again but he stopped her.

"I need to get cleaned up, Princess," he cut in, in his most careless voice. Pulling his shirt over his head he lobbed it towards the trashcan and headed for the kitchen door. "Noa's formula should be ready in a few minutes, right?" He tossed the words over his shoulder at her without pausing in his strides. "Good," he added after her nod. "Then the little termite can use that instead of me to fill himself up."

Momiji didn't reply, but then he hadn't expected her to. He knew that his behavior was terribly ignoble, but he couldn't help it. He was too busy trying to ignore the urge to go rushing back and take the baby, just to keep him from crying. It was a heavy, desperate feeling, one that somehow felt… _maternal - _and that made him beat an even hastier retreat.

Momiji bit her lip, her eyes following Kusanagi's broad, well-muscled shoulders until he disappeared from the room. Silently, she cursed Sakura, for ever opening her mouth and then cursed herself for having allowed her own insecurities to hinder her from immediately disavowing the idea that child and man were in any way related.

Noa's bottle was ready now. With a tired sigh, she pulled it from the lukewarm pan of water and took it into the living room. Gingerly, she settled herself on the sofa, wincing a little as the stuck fabric pulled her skin. The sharp pain quickly subsided into a dull ache, and, after a second or two, she was able to concentrate on feeding the ravenous newborn, without too much discomfort.

It had been a long time since she had fed a baby, she mused, and she couldn't recall ever feeding one this enthusiastic about his food. A quiet smile curved her lips as she looked at Noa and how intently he concentrated on slurping down his meal. If his appetite was anything to go by, Momiji told herself, he was going to grow be a strong, healthy child. - That was, as long as they could protect him from the Tengugaki.

Momiji's smile faded then. Her thoughts darkened, consumed by the Tengugaki's ability to sense the baby and the day that they would again come after him. She had a few weeks before that happened, but then what? she worried. She had to find a way to keep him safe, she vehemently thought, as she put the now empty bottle on the end table next to her and propped him on her shoulder to burp him.

After a few good burps, Momiji rhythmically rubbed the baby's back, mulling over the problem, and began to feel dispirited when she couldn't think of anything. She was about to give up thinking about it for the present when an unexpected possibility occurred to her. The solution seemed so simple that she wondered why it hadn't occurred to her sooner. A relieved excitement began to build within her, tempered by just a splinter of uncertainty. She knew nothing about chemistry and manufacturing, and she wondered if they would they have enough time to put her safety measure in place before the next new moon. Mr. Kunikida would probably know, she reflected. She should call him and talk to him about it.

Reaching out, she put her hand on the phone and then visibly jumped when Kusanagi's hand engulfed hers. She had been so caught up in her meditations that she had failed to hear Kusanagi return downstairs and come to stand behind the sofa. Craning to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes slid over him and she noticed that he was wearing a crisp, clean, white t-shirt. Seeing him now, she never would have guessed he had been injured just a few hours earlier. It made her wonder if his puncture wounds were completely healed already. How lucky could you get, she thought wistfully, wishing her back could be the same.

"What are you doing, Momiji?" he quietly asked, his hand still resting over hers so that she was unable to pick up the phone.

"I was going to call Mr. Kunikida and talk to him about Noa," she supplied, her green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she recalled her idea. "I think I know how we can keep the Tengugaki from finding him!"

"Really?" Kusanagi smiled a little at the excitement in her eyes. "How's that?"

"Ceramics!" she enthused. "If we build a ceramic field, and use it to shield Noa's energy, they won't be able to find him!"

Kusanagi looked impressed. "That's a really… good idea, Princess."

Momiji thanked him and then added, "But I don't know if we have enough time to build the field. I was just going to call Mr. Kunikida and ask him - " as she spoke, she tried to lift the phone, but Kusanagi hadn't let go of her and his fingers curled around hers, pulling them away from the phone before he released her.

" You can call him later. I think maybe first, you should lay the baby down, since he's asleep."

"What?" Momiji looked startled for a moment, her eyes darting to the small head nestled against her shoulder. Smiling, her fingers came up and gently stroked the soft down at the crown of Noa's head. "I hadn't even realized," she said sheepishly, the effort of getting to her feet awkward since she tried to do it without ripping at her sore skin.

Kusanagi watched her silently struggle for a split second before he moved around and tugged her carefully to her feet.

"Thanks." She mumbled gratefully into his chest.

He grunted in reply and she stood there, hesitating, her mind replaying what had happened in the kitchen.

"Kusanagi, about what I said… earlier," she was still looking at his chest, trying to find the right words, "I wasn't going to say that I thought you were Noa's father – "

"I know, Momiji. I just needed some time to myself," he replied quietly, but she didn't hear him, too busy trying to explain, not wanting him to continue to think that she didn't believe in him.

"I was going to say that perhaps he reacted to you that way because you are both hybrids of a sort… "

"It's okay, Momiji. I understand –"

"I want you to know that I don't believe Sakura," she babbled on, still feeling anxious, "I know I sounded like I did, but that's only because – you seem so… well you seem to know how to, uh, how to… you seem to know what, uh," Momiji grimaced at how muddled she sounded, but she kept plodding away, and Kusanagi quirked his lips in amusement.

He knew he should stop her, knew what it was she was trying to say, but he couldn't deny his ego the pleasure of hearing her tell him that he made her feel good.

"What I m-mean is, when we – uh, " Momiji gasped, feeling herself heat up in embarrassment.

How was she supposed to explain what she wanted to say without making it sound like she wanted him to rip all her clothes off? - Jeez, she realized in consternation, the more she tried to tell him, the more she _did _wish he would rip all of her clothes off! But she couldn't tell him _that_!! _Dear lord, just let me die now!_ she mentally groaned in humiliation.

"Wh-what I mean is," she finally managed after a deep breath, "you seem to know so much about… _girls - _and I had never stopped to think how you might… know… so much… and… I began to wonder – not that I have a right to know… and I…. realize that you would never…" _Oh god, it was just getting worse and worse! _she lamented silently.

His quiet chuckle made her stop staring at his chest and focus on his face. He was watching her, gentle amusement in his cat-like eyes. She didn't know why, but she felt relieved seeing his expression.

"It's a good thing you're not a public speaker, Princess," he teased and she laughed weakly. "- Momiji," he began suddenly and then paused, looking like he wanted to say something important; but all he added was, "Go lay the baby down."

Momiji nodded and moved quietly around him, heading for the stairs. Once she had disappeared from sight, Kusanagi reached over and unplugged the phone before turning to head into the kitchen.

Momiji had just laid Noa down in his crib and was in the painful process of trying to remove her coat when Kusanagi came into her room. She stopped when she saw him, her lacerated shoulder still stuck in its sleeve. What did he want? she wondered, before her green eyes pivoted downwards. His arms and hands were cluttered: towels slung across one arm, her first aid kit tucked under the other, and in his hand a bowl of water. Things to help clean her back, she surmised. But what was he planning to do with _those_? she pondered uneasily as her eyes lit on a pair of scissors he was grasping.

"What are those for?" she asked, staring at the stainless steel blades, still standing half in, half out of her coat.

Kusanagi raised a quizzical eyebrow at her question but remained silent for a moment. Putting the towels on the bed, and the first aid kit and bowl of water on her night-stand, he sauntered towards her, the scissors still in his hand

"These?" Kusanagi raised the scissors and looked at them, snapping them open and closed a few times before he flashed her a lazy grin, "These are to help me get into your pants, Princess."

It took a moment for the full impact of his words to register. When they did, Momiji's eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back, remembering, with alarm, the heart panties she was wearing. It really shouldn't matter if he saw them, since she had already blurted out what was written across them. But somehow it did, and she would rather sit naked in a hornet's nest than let him see her wearing them.

If he saw them, especially after what she had said last night, he would mostly likely think she had some kind of… perverted fetish! Besides that, it was humiliating enough to have to remember that he had failed to respond to her spontaneous 'I love you', and she didn't wish to live a repeat of that incident.

"Wait! Y-you don't need those to get into my pants," she quickly stammered.

Kusanagi's smile took on a perverted twist. "Oh, really? I can't tell you how it touches me to know that you would let me into your pants without them, Princess. - You really do make it too easy for me."

The low, seductive tone of his voice, belied the amused glimmer in his eyes, and Momiji couldn't tell if his last comment referred to her poor choice of words or the fact that she had basically said he could have her if he wanted her. Without thinking, she let her eyes trail wistfully over his broad shoulders and the well-sculpted muscles that were outlined against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Her humiliation of the night before was momentarily squashed as other images crowded in on top of it; images of him hovering above her, kissing her, caressing her, and the beginnings of a churning desire gnawed at her insides.

Idiot! A sharp voice in her brain cried in warning. _Have you no pride? _it demanded. S_top thinking of how good it felt last night and start thinking of a way to get him out of your room before he gets a chance to use those scissors!_

Clearing her throat, Momiji looked away from him and began mumbling protests.

She managed to take several steps away from him on rubbery legs before Kusanagi chuckled softly and said, "You act like I'm going to chew you up and spit you out, Princess." He had seen her eyes rove over him and knew that she wanted him, but she didn't want him to know. Too late, Momiji, he thought, he already knew and he planned on taking full advantage of it. "But what a waste that would be, considering how good you taste."

Momiji gaped at him, unsure how to handle his remark and he sauntered forward while she tried to recover, watching him with a wary light in her eyes. When he was just a few feet away, he looked down at her with raised eyebrows and murmured in a smooth voice, "I believe I recall a certain conversation between us, Princess, and I wonder if you remember it as well."

"What conversation would that be? She asked, still a little flustered.

"When I was sick, and you were most insistent in helping me to recover. Do you recall it?" he asked.

"Er, well," she hedged, "I remember what a grumpy patient you made."

"That's not what I'm talking about," he said in a damp voice. "I believe it had less to do with me and more to do with your bedside manner. Something about reminding me to teach you the right way to play doctor." Momiji knew exactly what he was talking about now, and her expression froze with his next words. "Well, guess what, Princess. Class has started. Although I don't think you'll need a pencil or paper for this lesson, and any field study you might wish to do … I'm all for it." Kusanagi grinned wickedly, and took another step forward, reaching out for her, "Here," he murmured, and Momiji stared, as if mesmerized, at the scissors in his hand. "It will hurt a lot less if you let me use these to remove your –"

Your pride! her brain screamed desperately at her. R_emember, your pride is hanging by the seat of your pants!_ Making one last desperate attempt to hang on to her dignity, Momiji evaded his grasp, her arm still hanging limply in her coat sleeve.

"N-no, really, I can do this by myself, Kusanagi," she quickly reassured him as he paused, scissors poised aloft. "I don't think I'll need your assistance."

"I highly doubt that," he replied skeptically. "You can't even get out of your coat, Momiji."

"Yes I can," she defended diffidently. "It's just you startled me in the middle of doing it." To prove her point, she quickly shrugged her shoulder and tried to pull the sleeve off. Immediately, jets of pain shot up her back. Momiji stiffened to keep from crying out and Kusanagi's cynicism dissipated into irritated concern.

"Idiot!" He reproved. Tucking the scissors into his back pocket, he reached out, gently took her elbow, and slowly began working her coat off. The next time he spoke, it was in a whisper close to her ear. "You should think before you do things like that, Princess. You might give me the impression that you don't want me to… touch you."

"I don't," she said numbly and then, realizing how that sounded, hurriedly stuttered, "no, that's not what I meant. I meant that it's not that I don't want you to touch me; it's just that, I don't want… I don't need…" she stumbled clumsily for an explanation, knowing that she couldn't just blurt out, _"I want you to touch me, just not while I'm graphically advertising my heart across my butt_." Swallowing her desperation, she managed in a quasi - normal voice, "There's no need for you to go to all this trouble, Kusanagi. You've had a long day, and I'm sure you're tired. I can do this by myself, you know - I'm a very capable person."

"Uh-huh," was all he said, sounding unimpressed and unconvinced. Kusanagi finished pulling her coat free, and with a sigh, he let go of her elbow, his hand coming up to brush the backs of his fingers along her cheek, tucking a stray wisp of chestnut hair behind her ear. "You really are a terrible liar, you know that?"

Momiji's breath caught in her throat then and she silently groaned. His voice was so gentle, and his caress was so soft. She wanted to lean into it with all her heart and soul; she really did. But her pride, and a blaringly bright image of a red heart floating in front of her eyes kept her from doing it.

Chancing a quick glance up into his face, she saw that his eyes were focused on her mouth and she could read his intent in his expression. If he kissed her, Momiji didn't think she would be able to hold off from succumbing to the raw, sexual energy he was giving off. But then, almost as if he had sensed her weakness, he blinked and the expression was gone. He stepped away from her, and instead of feeling relieved, Momiji experienced a sense of let down.

Idiot! This is what you want, she scolded silently. _The more distance he puts between you, the safer you'll be_.

Trying to make herself believe that, she watched as he turned away from her to throw her coat into the chair by the window. Then with casual strides he crossed the room, going around to the other side of her bed where he crouched down and all she could see was the top of his head.

What in the world? she thought in utter bafflement. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to get a glimpse at what he was doing. She still couldn't see, so she took a few steps closer, stopping when his face popped up over the mattress and he pushed at it, moving it slightly.

"Is there something the matter with my bed?" she asked faintly.

His eyes darted to her and he flashed her a grin before his head disappeared again. "No, not your bed – your phone," his voice floated breezily back to her.

"What's wrong with my phone?"

"It works," came the teasing response, "which is why I'm unhooking it."

Momiji stared blankly at the top of his head. "- But why?"

There was a click and a satisfied grunt; then Kusanagi's head reappeared along with the rest of his body as he stood and pushed the mattress back into place.

He smiled again, an unholy glint in his eyes.

"If I'm going to teach you to play doctor, I want our lesson to be private and without interruption," he answered.

"But I thought I told you I could do that myself," Momiji mumbled redundantly.

Kusanagi leaned over and grabbed several towels off the bed, going around to soak one of them in the bowl of water before he replied in an unconcerned voice, "And I thought I told you that you were a terrible liar." Finally ready, he pulled the scissors out of his back pocket and swiveled around, looking at her with steady determination as he moved towards her with his cat-like grace.

Uh oh.


	35. 34: Walls of Jericho

Dreamer Awakened

Chapter Thirty-Four

Momiji was all too familiar with his expression, and she worriedly put her hand behind her, self-consciously covering the spot where she knew the betraying heart to be. "Kusanagi," she began desperately, "I don't think –"

Kusanagi's eyes followed the movement of Momiji's hand and an enlightened look flashed across his face. _So that's what all this was about, _he thought. He knew that Momiji was normally shy about exposing herself; but she was being overly reticent, even for her, and he hadn't been able to understand it. Until now. 

"Is this about your underwear, Momiji?" he asked, a note of levity threading his words as he stopped in front of her.

Oh, god. 

Momiji's startled eyes flew to his face and she gave him a searching look, "I – I – don't know what you mean," she stammered through stiff lips.

Kusanagi quirked his brow at her and didn't say anything for a minute, his eyes moving thoughtfully over her. "I know I just told you this, Princess, but I guess it bears repeating. You really _are _a terrible liar." Momiji automatically took the towel he held out in front of her as he added dryly, "and the few minutes that have elapsed between now and the last time I said it hasn't changed that fact one bit." 

Momiji miserably fingered the towel, pleating its folds, and was unable to stop the flow of protests that bubbled past her lips, even though she knew they were quite useless. "Really, Kusanagi, I –" 

"There's no use in pretending," he said a little louder than necessary, "I already know about the underwear, Momiji." There was a flash of mortification in her eyes as she looked away from him and his expression softened. This was not how he had wanted things to go at all, he thought remorsefully. "Who do you think wanted to make sure they were the only pair you had to wear?" he asked, his voice gentler now.

Momiji grimaced and closed her eyes for a moment, clutching the towel to her chest, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wondered if he had thought that making her wear them would be a fun prank – like freezing her underwear had been. If so, she didn't find it funny. At all.

"How did you know?" She whispered haltingly. 

There was a long silence into which her question fell and so she slowly opened her eyes, forcing herself to look at him. He was staring at her, his eyes dark and serious, and though she still didn't know what he had hoped to accomplish with his actions, she at least now knew that he hadn't meant it as a joke. 

"Did you see? –" she abruptly broke off, flashing him a questioning look and then changed what she was saying to, "I didn't think you had seen them then – that day that I – that you found out Kaede was still alive." Her voice sounded tight, and Momiji stopped for a moment to take a steadying breath.

There was a moment of silence as Kusanagi studied Momiji's strained countenance.

"I didn't," he replied intently, reaching out and drawing her closer to him, his eyes never leaving her face. "Not that day, I didn't." 

He stopped speaking and Momiji didn't resist him when he turned her around by her shoulder so that she was staring blankly at the wall. Momiji felt the warmth of his fingers brush against her neck as he swept her hair over her left shoulder to get it out of the way. Then she felt him gently place the damp towel against her back, soaking her shirt to try and loosen it from her skin. She was vaguely aware of the water stinging against the claw marks, but the pain faded into the background when Kusanagi moved even closer. 

"I didn't see them then, but I had hoped to see them… now, Momiji." 

The warmth of his breath fanned her skin, and his lips brushed softly against her nape as he spoke, making his words a potent caress. Momiji's felt a shiver race up her spine and her throat went dry. 

"Although," he sighed, pulling away from her and tilting his head to survey her back, "this isn't exactly the situation I'd had in mind when I arranged for you to find them." Even though he wouldn't be able to get a really good look until he cut her shirt away, he could tell that the plans he had made for the evening were pretty much shot. "What happened with Zan Kazai can't be helped. – But you know Momiji," he couldn't stop himself from pointing out a little peevishly, "it seems like every time you go haring off on your own, you get into trouble. I wish you would stop it though. It shaves ten years off my life each time you do it ." 

""I thought I was doing the right thing, Kusanagi, I never would have gone if I had thought it was dangerous… - I'm sorry," Momiji replied contritely, 

Momiji heard Kusanagi mutter something under his breath, and then he replied darkly, "You thought you were going to save Yaegashi from the Tengugaki – and you don't think that's dangerous? I think you need to readjust your definition of danger, Momiji, starting with just how safe you think it is to make me angry saying such an idiotic thing!"

Momiji cringed at the strident sound of his voice. "I really am sorry, Kusanagi. You're right. It was stupid." 

Momiji waited as Kusanagi struggled to get his temper in check. "I don't want you to be sorry, Momiji," he managed to say in a reasonable way after a moment. "Just try waiting for me next time." 

Momiji nodded her head and Kusanagi let it go, despite the fact that he knew it wasn't likely to happen. His felt sure that his request would be forgotten by tomorrow. It probably wouldn't even take that long for her to forget – she would most likely forget it by the end of the night – Hell, he thought in wry exasperation, he'd be lucky if she remembered it ten minutes from now. Her impulsiveness was too ingrained for her to heed any words of caution he might give her, even though she might say otherwise. 

But now that she was safe, he didn't want to keep his anger going over the issue. 

She was safe. 

That was what counted the most. 

He would just have to try and be more vigilant on his part, since he knew that she wouldn't be, and get used to the fact that he would probably be prematurely grey. 

It wasn't such a bad thing, really; grey hair was better than green any day. - As long as it didn't start falling out. If that were to happen, he thought, his lips twisting sardonically, he would have to start thinking seriously about new uses for super glue.

Suppressing another sigh, Kusanagi took the towel from her back and schooled his thoughts together so could concentrate on the meticulous task of cutting away the loosened fabric of her shirt. After a few long minutes, it was done. He tucked the scissors back into his back pocket, and with barely a flick of his fingers, he sent the ruined fabric falling from her shoulders to the floor before unhooking her bra, being careful not to put unnecessary pressure against her skin. 

Sliding the straps down the silky length of her arms, he was gripped by the strong impulse to let his fingers glide around her ribcage and cup her breasts. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to pull his hands away from her and drop the flimsy white silk on top of her shirt, sternly lecturing himself about ignoring her body and keeping his mind on what he was doing. 

Ignore!? A rebellious voice taunted. _HA_! _Not even if hell froze over_! 

Ignoring her was tantamount to telling a swimmer to swim in the desert. If he wanted to help her, he had to look, the rebellious voice reasoned slyly. But Kusanagi did his best to suppress his mutinous thoughts, knowing that the kind of looking he needed to do and the kind of looking that he wanted to do were two separate things –- Not that looking was the hardest part of his problem anyway, he thought darkly. It was the touching part that was going to be hell.

Unaware of the turbulent nature of the emotions that battled their way across Kusanagi's usually guarded countenance, Momiji was busy grappling with troublesome feelings of her own, all of which stemmed from the pressure of his fingers brushing lightly against her skin. He was barely touching her at all, and she definitely couldn't call what he was doing a caress. And yet it affected her the same way as when he had spoken softly against her neck. 

Momiji's emotions were on the brink of spinning out of control, and she convulsively clutched the towel he'd given her even more tightly across her naked breasts, trying to slow the erratic gallop of her heart after his long fingers had slowly traced a path down her arms while removing her bra, one shoulder at a time. 

The fact that he wasn't touching her at all now should have helped, and yet her chest was still rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. She felt like such a fool, not being able to control her reaction to his nearness, and was extremely glad when he unconsciously took matters in to his owns hands and silently stepped away from her, giving her a chance to recover her equilibrium. Taking a deep breath and holding it for a minute, she watched him cross the room and pick up the first aid kit, every last one of her thoughts centered on him. 

She'd been afraid that he would withdraw from her after last night. But so far it wasn't happening. There was no sign of reservation in his face when he looked at her, no hesitancy in his hands when he touched her. What did it mean? She was used to seeing shadows in his eyes, as if there were things he'd wanted to keep hidden from her, used to sensing the conflict in his body, when he allowed contact between them. It had always seemed that when he touched her, there was an underlying unease, as if he didn't want to let her get too close; like he wanted to keep a part of himself hidden from her, afraid to show her what was inside. Even last night it had seemed that way. 

But not now. She puzzled over it. Could it possibly be that rather than driving him away, telling him she loved him had actually had the opposite effect? Or was this just one more step in the elaborate dance they seemed to weave around each other? As Kusanagi turned back in her direction, she was caught staring at him and instead of shuttering his gaze, as she would have expected, his lips curved into the hint of a smile, an intimate expression kindling within the depths of his eyes. 

At that moment, Momiji realized that Kusanagi had lain to rest the demons that plagued him concerning her, and all the barriers he'd erected to keep her out were gone. She should have felt euphoric; elated; ecstatic – any number of adjectives that would be used to describe the happiness that such a turn of events would engender. But she didn't. Instead, she was in the midst of a code red crisis; an all out panic attack that started at the roots of her hair and quickly traveled to the tips of her toes.

Oh, God, oh god, she silently babbled, _what should she say? What should she do? _Waiting for three years, she would have thought she would be better prepared for this, _BUT NO_! She had no clue as to how she should proceed. Should she try throwing herself at his feet, like she had last night? She mentally cringed at the suggestion. Being sober made that seem like a really bad idea. Who knew whether or not he would reciprocate? He hadn't last night, and just because things seemed different now, didn't mean he was ready to tell her that he loved her too – but wait – she stopped, arrested by a horrible thought, _what if he didn't love her_. What if it was a purely physical thing for him? 

Whoa! 

She brought her thoughts to a screeching halt. It was hard enough trying to act natural while standing there with nothing but a towel to cover her breasts. And thinking that Kusanagi might lust after her was a disturbingly bad thought for two reasons – number one, she wanted him to love her like she loved him; and number two… no matter how mortifying it might be to acknowledge, if lust was all he was willing to offer, then she would take it, just so she could get closer to him. 

That idea, coupled with the look on his face as he sauntered back over to her left her feeling extremely flustered, and she shifted, her towel slipping precariously low. Hurriedly she moved to fix it, missing the way Kusanagi's eyes were magnetically drawn downwards, following the sloping valley of her breasts before she once again had the towel in a tight clench across her chest. 

By the time she looked back up at him, Kusanagi had managed to yank his eyes away from her, and he continued mechanically past her, putting the first aid kit on the floor next to her heel, and once again taking up his position behind her. 

Swallowing several times to try and dislodge her tongue from the roof of her mouth, Momiji tried to achieve a semblance of ease. But her efforts were impeded by a moment of utter stillness in which Kusanagi neither moved nor said anything. She strained her ears, but she couldn't even hear him breathing. She assumed it was because he was assessing her back, but in her current, overwrought condition, she found the peacefulness too nerve-wracking to stand. 

Without giving thought to what she might say, Momiji cleared her throat and blurted out, "So, how does it look?" 

She experienced a moment of extreme gratitude, thankful that what had come rushing out of her mouth had been innocuous, if a bit predictable. She'd been extremely lucky that she hadn't said something stupid, given the fact that she was beyond rational thought at that point.

Kusanagi didn't answer her right away, and the oppressive silence began to settle in once more. Feeling anxious, Momiji turned to look over her shoulder, but she didn't even manage to get a glimpse before she was facing forward again. 

"Stand still so I can see," Kusanagi muttered pensively.

He wrapped his hands around her ears, the pads of his fingers pressing against her cheeks as he turned her head back around to the front. 

Momiji protested, pushing at his fingers, and saying, "Kusanagi! I want to see!" 

Her movements caused her hair to fall from her shoulder, down her back where it impeded Kusanagi's view. 

Momiji!" he objected in exasperation, "you need to stand still so _I_ can see." He kept his fingers in place for a moment or two longer, adding, "It's more important for me to see what I'm doing than for you to see what I'm doing." 

After a few more mumbled protests, Momiji subsided into silence and Kusanagi gathered the strands of her hair back together, rubbing the silky texture between his fingers before depositing it back over her shoulder and out of his way. 

"No more squirming Momiji – I mean it," he ordered firmly and then fell silent as his eyes slid over the red lines running down her back. 

Good god, he thought his jaw tightening. If she had been even half a foot closer to Zan Kazai, he would have ripped through her back all the way to the bone. As it was, her skin had literally been flayed away in strips and in some places the groove marks from the wraith's claws were especially deep. The only positive he could find in his assessment was the fact that she'd stopped bleeding. 

"I'm going to start cleaning it now, Momiji. Let me know if I hurt you and I'll stop," He told her.

Momiji nodded and very tentatively, he went to work, amazed that she could stand there so stoically as he washed away the blood and sterilized the wounds. After a tense half hour, he was finally finished, and he threw the bloodied gauze into the trash. All that remained now was to bandage it up and then he could begin on her thigh. He wondered if that, too, would be as bad as her back, and his eyes trailed downward along her spine, until they reached the focal point below the waistband of her pants. 

He surveyed the torn fabric for several long seconds before his eyes left off their clinical observation and began to trace the shapely curve of her backside, creating a mental picture of what lay hidden from view. The image wavered and merged with another where she was lying naked beneath him, soft and yielding as he leisurely explored her body. 

Dammit, he hissed silently, frustrated with himself as his body tightened, _he should know better_. But he couldn't seem to help himself and his eyes stayed riveted right where they were, the fantasies of what the two of them could be doing if things had happened a little differently lingering with enticing stubbornness. After a long moment, Kusanagi forced the images away and focused on the reality of Momiji's raw, abraded skin, pointedly telling himself that the only thing he could do with that incredibly provocative body of hers was patch it up. Everything else would just to have to wait. 

So much for the proactive part of the plans he'd made this morning, he thought sourly. All that remained now was the hard part. He grimaced at the cruel irony of the word, shifting to relieve some of the discomfort in his groin and reminding himself it was past time to clear the air between them. Before he had a chance to begin, though, Momiji addressed him.

"How does it look, Kusanagi? You never did say," she prompted. 

"It looks like it hurts," he told her, not elaborating since he was too preoccupied with trying to formulate the right way to begin what he wanted to say. 

"Kusanagi!" she exclaimed, trying to turn around again, "a lot of things hurt, including paper cuts. What you just said doesn't tell me anything!" 

"Sure it does," he replied, "it tells you that if it were me, I would be complaining about how it feels instead of worrying about how it looks. Now stop moving around," he demanded, his hands holding her in place for the third time, "and let me finish." 

He unwound the end of piece of clean gauze he'd retrieved from the first aid kit and placed it against her back. Carefully rolling it towards her side, he felt Momiji's muscles stiffen beneath his hands. 

"Does it hurt?" he asked in concern, leaning forwards to push her elbows out so he could reach around to the front and continue wrapping the gauze around her ribcage. 

"No," Momiji breathed, and then added in a strained way, "well, maybe a little." She lifted the towel away from herself to make it easier for him to work the gauze around to the front. 

"I'm trying to be as easy as I can," he said, his voice soft with regret.

"I know," she replied, her words coming out a little wobbly as the knuckles on Kusanagi's right hand grazed the underside of her breast.

"Sorry," he apologized gruffly and she wondered just what exactly he was apologizing for.

After a moment's reflection, she decided it was safer to assume that he was apologizing for her discomfort and not the accidental intimate contact. 

"It's not exactly your fault, is it?" she responded after taking a steadying breath. 

Kusanagi hesitated before he answered, realizing that she had just given him the perfect opportunity to start the conversation he wanted to have with her.

"Yes it is, Momiji." His voice was solemn as he finished up with the gauze by taping it in place. "No matter what the reason, if my actions cause you pain, then I am the one to blame, aren't I? Not just in this but other things as well."

Momiji blinked at his words. 

"Other things?" she echoed, her eyes rising to meet his as he stepped around to face her.

"Yes." Looking at her pale face, he hesitated, wondering if now was such a good time after all. "Momiji, there are some things I really wanted to discuss with you, are you feeling up to it?"

"Yes," Momiji nodded slowly, twisting her fingers nervously together. 

The same nervousness shimmered brightly in her green eyes, so he leaned down and placed a lingering, soft kiss against her lips before pulling back and saying, "Then just as soon as I am finished playing doctor, we'll talk."

Momiji nodded again, biting her lower lip as he stepped away to begin the same procedure for her hip that he had used for her back. After soaking it and cutting away the fabric, he quickly assessed the damage. There was one deep puncture wound near her waist where it began to flesh out and join her thigh. Other than that one spot and a few hairline scratches, he was relieved to see, that it didn't look half as bad as her back – of further note and by some strange quirk of fate, he thought ironically, Momiji's underwear had managed to make it through the attack unscathed. 

Would she consider that good luck, or bad? he wondered as he worked, efficiently patching up her thigh before going to her closet to retrieve her robe. 

With a look of gratitude, Momiji took it from him, turning her back to him as she slipped it on, glad to have something bigger than a towel to cover herself with. Wrapping its warm folds securely around herself, she belted it and then turned back to face him, giving him a tremulous smile to let him know she was ready. He stepped forward, taking her by the elbow and led her over to the bed to sit down. 

Bending his knee, he pulled his leg up on the bed and turned sideways, his eyes seeking hers as he took both of her hands, noting that her fingers had gotten icy. She was nervous, he realized – but then so was he.

"Between this morning and this afternoon, the heart of what I want to say to you hasn't changed, but where exactly to begin has. I think, at this point, that after what happened in the lab, we should begin with the things that Sakura said."

As he spoke, Momiji's expression had become more and more clouded and she interrupted him to say, "I'm sorry Kusanagi. I never meant for you to think that I believed you were Noa's father –"

"That's not exactly what I'm referring to, Momiji." He slid one of his hands free from hers, brushing at a stray lock of hair that rested against her temple before letting it drop to his knee as he added, "It has more to do with Sakura's references to my past." He watched Momiji's expression change to one of dread, and he felt a twinge of the same emotion grip his stomach. "I never even thought about how it might affect you until this afternoon, when I saw the look on your face as Sakura began hinting about girls in my past –" he paused when Momiji shifted restlessly. 

She made a small noise of protest as uncomfortable color filled her cheeks. "It doesn't matter!" she hastened to assure him.

Kusanagi gave her a measuring look, his eyes moving intently over the earnestness in her face. "I know you say that now," he remarked slowly, "and, I'm sure you mean it. But there's a part of you, no matter how small it may be, that feels differently. Your expression from earlier today is evidence to that fact. That's why I want to talk about it." He stopped for a moment his expression tightening as struggled to find the right words. There was no easy way to say it, so he settled for using the direct approach. "I'm not going to lie and tell you that I've never had sex, Momiji - " 

Momiji looked away from him for a moment, struggling not to let what she had already guessed hurt now that she knew for certain.

Kusanagi closed his eyes and cringed at his own heavy-handedness. _What was he trying to do? Bludgeon her to death with the truth? _he asked himself harshly. _Damn but he was bad at this_, came the dark thought, but even so, he was determined to finish it. 

"It's been over three years," he grimly forged on. "- Right after I thought Kaede had been murdered. I – I felt lost… hurt… and I didn't know how to deal with what I was feeling. All I knew was that I needed to find, _something_ – but I didn't know what it was I was looking for, or how to find it." 

Kusanagi stopped, a little startled when Momiji's eyes pivoted back to him and he felt her fingers tighten around his as if to offer him comfort or reassurance. 

"I resorted to drinking for a while, but it wasn't very effective since it took a lot to make me drunk, and in the mornings afterwards, I would wake up with a hangover, more depressed than ever. At the time though, it was the only way I knew of to escape – to try and cope, and I thought it was better than nothing, so I kept pushing my limit. 

"And then, one night when I was in a bar in Tokyo, a woman came up to me and made it very clear what she wanted. Feeling that I had nothing to lose, I went with her." He stopped, feeling a little awkward, and cleared his throat. "It was then that I discovered that sex could close off the pain and confusion much more effectively than alcohol and, I'm ashamed to say, I took full advantage of the intense distraction it offered me to help block out the hole that Kaede's death had left inside me. 

"I don't remember any one particular girl, or even their names. None of them meant anything to me, and there was never any emotion involved in it. If anything, it was the complete lack of emotion, coupled with physical release that kept the pain and confusion at bay and made me continue with it, uncaring of who I used, or who was using me." He paused, his eyes losing their focus as he looked inwards, and added in a distant voice, " It's hard to remember exactly how long I went on like that; perhaps a few weeks, perhaps longer. I'm not sure. Those days bleed together into one sordid memory for me." 

He stopped speaking and gave her a long, steady look. She returned it, her eyes soft and troubled and he realized when she spoke that her distress was solely for him.

Lowering her gaze, Momiji murmured, "I'm so sorry. You were hurting so much, and there was no one to reach out to you, to offer you the comfort you needed – "

Kusanagi stopped her, reaching out, his fingers catching her chin to pull her gaze back towards him before he let her go. "But there was someone," he told her, and she looked surprised. "Do you want to know?" She slowly nodded and he continued, "Even though I knew that Kaede was gone, I still returned to the places where I'd watched over her, out of habit, I think – The places I found myself haunting the most were her school, the lab, and Kunikida's place. It was while I was there, outside his kitchen window that things began to change. That day stands out clearly in my mind, because it was the day that I learned that there was another Kushinada – a younger sister, who lived in Izumo."

"It was then that I began to pull myself out of the blackness that I had fallen into, and I decided to forge a new destiny for myself. I would go to Izumo, I decided, and I would put an end to the slavery that the Aragami had forced me into. By sacrificing this new Kushinada, I would be able to send the Aragami into eternal slumber." He paused and leaned forward then, both of his hands coming up to cup her cheeks as he drew closer and closer to her until their faces almost touched. His eyes burned intensely and his voice was just as intense as he whispered, "Never had I been so focused, so determined and so - damnably wrong. 

"That day, Momiji, the day that I first met you - I may have shed my confusion and sorrow, but I was still bitter and angry, and very much alone. I took those emotions and I tried to use them against you, to offer your blood as vengeance for everything that I had lost, from the time that I was a child to the very minute I pulled you away from Orochi inside your school. 

"But you showed me how wrong I was by giving me back something that I'd been missing – something that I never thought I would ever have."

"What was that?" she asked quietly.

"Acceptance," He told her. "Even though you were terrified of me, you tried to protect me, believing me worthy of being protected, offering that faith in the most selfless of gestures. You changed my life forever that day and it was an incredible gift you gave me - the peace and the comfort you gave me that day, I had never experienced before. I knew then, that although you were a Kushinada the same as your sister, you were different, and I have wanted to be near you ever since." He released her and slowly sat back, noting the slightly bemused expression on Momiji's face. He remained silent, giving her time to reflect on his words, but as he recalled one of the many things that Sakura had said that afternoon, he felt impelled to add, "Oh, and Momiji, about my gloves," he reached up again, the warmth of his fingers resting against her neck. "- not once was I ever even tempted to take them off. But for you, I would do anything."

Momiji's eyes rounded at that and light pink color brightened her cheeks. "Kusanagi," she whispered, her hand fluttering up to touch the one resting against her neck. "I – I – you didn't have to - " she floundered around, and then stopped and simply said, "thank you for sharing your past with me." 

"I wanted you to know," he simply replied. "And now that we have put the distant past behind us, I would like talk about last night. I know this morning you told me that you don't remember much about what happened, but do you recall at all what you said to me?"

Momiji nodded. "Yes," she whispered, "I told you that l-" 

Kusanagi stopped her, putting his fingers against her lips. "It's my turn for confessions, tonight Momiji," he told her. "You know, when I left Tokyo, it was because I was afraid. I was of afraid of what I felt when I was with you, afraid I wouldn't be able to fight my growing need to touch you, to be with you the way I wanted to. I have fought against those feelings for so long, but I don't want to fight any more." 

"Kusanagi," she whispered again, her voice choked with emotion and he gave her a tender smile.

"I have a first name, you know," he teased her lightly, "it's Mamoru, in case you've forgotten."

"I know," she replied with a watery laugh. "Kaede calls you Mamoru – and I know your name means 'guardian' - but to me, you've always been more than that. You've always been," she paused, looking helplessly at him, unable to explain what she wanted to say. "To me you have always been… well… _ Kusanagi_," she finished lamely.

Kusanagi chuckled, applying pressure against her neck, bringing her head to rest against his chest before he let his hand slide down to loosely cradle her back . "I really don't care what you call me, Princess, as long as you share my name with me," he softly admitted.

It took a moment for his words to sink in, and then Momiji stiffened, straightening in his arms, the crown of her head smacking him in the chin. There was a loud _Agh_! but she hardly noticed the noise as she moved to sit back and look at him, her body quivering in shock. 

"Wh – what did you say?" she stammered cocking her ear towards him, afraid she hadn't heard him correctly the first time. 

Kusanagi grimaced, rubbing at the spot where her head had made contact. After eyeing her for several seconds, he let his hand drop and his grimace faded, replaced by a heart stopping smile.

"I love you, Momiji," he told her, his eyes intent with sincerity. "Marry me. Tonight."

Momiji's mouth fell open and her eyes dilated in surprise. She tried to scream YES! But she couldn't seem to breathe, so nothing came out. 

"Too soon?" Kusanagi's smile became a crooked grin as he watched her struggled for a response. "Then how about tomorrow?"

"No! –" she blurted out breathlessly, and then rapidly changed it to a confusing, "yes!" and then another, "no!" and Kusanagi blinked, trying to decipher her answer. But then she launched herself at him, burying her head against his chest and hugged him tightly. "I love you, Kusanagi!"

He wrapped his arms around her, his face relaxing into satisfaction as he murmured, "I'm glad to hear it," adding in a teasingly casual way, "so-o-o, that means you'll marry me then, right?"

Momiji didn't bother pulling back to reply, but Kusanagi felt her nose bobbing up and down against his shirt in a vigorous nod. Then she squeezed herself even more tightly up against him and mumbled into his shirt, "_Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes_! When, when, when?"

Kusanagi chuckled again and replied lightheartedly, "Well, tonight would be nice, or even tomorrow."

"No... r_eally_!? You're teasing me, aren't you?" she mumbled against him again, and despite sounding muffled he could hear the excitement and incredulity in her voice. 

Kusanagi could feel a smile creeping across his face in light of her exuberance. He wanted to hold her tightly, loving everything about her, but he kept his arms loosely draped around her, ever mindful of the dubious condition of her back.

"No, I'm not teasing you, " he assured her and then sighed regretfully, "but as much as I'd like it to be tonight or even tomorrow, I doubt I can legally make it happen that fast. – But no matter what, I want it to be as soon as possible." 

Images of the Tengugaki intruded into his thoughts, and he contemplated what lay ahead, the future more tenuous and uncertain than ever before. All he could count on was today. If Zan Kazai had been right, and Tamanasu was somehow able to return, stronger than before, Kusanagi wasn't at all certain that he could beat him. Tamanasu was already faster than he was, and if he became even more powerful... Kusanagi squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the inevitable conclusion, his hand automatically seeking the soft feel of Momiji's hair as a diversion. _Time was a precious commodity right now_, he whispered to himself, his fingers sifting through the silky chestnut strands. And_ so was Momiji_. 

Loosening his arms, he pulled back so he could see her face.

"I'm sorry for waiting for this long, Princess," he said with sincere regret, and then leaned down to kiss her. 

Their lips met and Momiji thought her heart would explode just from sheer joy. But then, Kusanagi slowly pulled away from her and reluctantly stood up.

"I think I should let you get some rest now," he told her in a thick voice, and slowly headed for the door. "You've been through quite a lot today."

Momiji's mouth fell open in consternation as she watched him walking away from her. _But I don't want you to leave!_ she cried silently. Her body was thrumming with emotion, her heart lighter than it had been since she could remember. Did he really expect her to rest? Now? After all of that? 


	36. 35: Lessons In Love

*** Due to circumstances beyond the author's control (namely, some very scary, threatening emails regarding sustained abstinence from key players within the framework of this story ) this chapter will contain adult subject matter. Please affix the little skull and crossbones label here: ___________ and consider yourselves duly warned.*** 

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Scrambling to her feet, Momiji stood in rigid panic.

"Kusanagi!" she called desperately, clenching and unclenching her fists. Kusanagi paused within her doorway at the nervous sound of her voice and turned, leaning with his hand pressed against the door jam. 

"What is it, Princess?" He inquired.

His countenance was shuttered, protective; an expression that Momiji understood a little better now. It wasn't so much that he was trying to block her out as it was that he was trying to keep his emotions under control. In his own pig-headed way, he was trying very hard to be noble. 

But she didn't want him to be noble. 

Desperately, she cast about for something to make him stay, and her tongue got twisted into a knot, as she blurted out, "U-uhhmderwear!"

Kusanagi blinked at her. 

"Are you starting a new fashion trend? Undergarments for the indecisive?" he asked. 

"No, I," Momiji bit her lip, "I meant, my underwear. I was wondering – "

"Oh," Kusanagi interrupted with an enlightened look. "That's right, I forgot to tell you. They're in there," he told her with a vaguely pointed finger, "in your closet behind that sexy little green dress of yours."

Momiji's brain honed in on the word 'sexy', and she experienced a rush of pleasure before the meaning of the rest of his words sunk in. There was a pregnant pause and then Momiji's eyes ricocheted from him, to her closet and then back to him again. "You hid them in _my_ closet?" she demanded, a peevish note creeping into her voice. That was the one place she hadn't thought to look.

Easily reading her expression, he said a little smugly, "Didn't even see it coming, did you, Princess?"

"No, I didn't," she grumbled, adding, "shame on you, Kusanagi!"

"What?" He widened his eyes, going for the innocent look, but his lecherous grin ruined the effect. "I had to find a good hiding place to ensure that you wore those." His eyes dipped towards her waist.

"Really," she exclaimed, "the lengths you go to just to infuriate me! The least you could have done was throw them in the washer or something. – Not leave them in a wad at the back of my closet!"

"Oh but that would have interfered with my own plans, you see," he told her with a knowing smile.

"And what plans were those?" she inquired, pleased with herself at having managed to distract him from trying to leave for the present. 

Kusanagi's smile took on a crooked bend at her question and he replied ruefully, "Well, I knew that you had worn them specifically for my benefit a long time ago; even though I never got the chance to see them. So, I was going to ask you to show them to me tonight and then –" he stopped abruptly. 

He could see from Momiji's face that she was keenly interested in hearing the rest of his 'plan', but he thought it rather imprudent to be having this conversation right now. It was only making him want to throw all his good intentions out the window and let his hands have free reign over her body. The distance that separated them ensured him that that wasn't going to happen, but it couldn't stop his eyes from doing what the rest of him wanted to do, and they glided over her petite frame, following the delicate bones of her ankles, to the shapely curve of her calves that disappeared beneath the hem of her robe before climbing the rest of her enshrouded body to her face. 

Even bundled in its shapelessness, Kusanagi thought she was beautiful. Her hair shimmered softly, framing the perfect oval of her face, and her emerald eyes, set beneath long dark lashes, stared guilelessly at him with an almost child-like quality. It was her eyes that helped to soothe some of the unabated hunger building in his veins. As he was drawn into them, he immersed himself in the expression of their innocence, and was able to stiffen his resolve enough to draw in a deep breath and say in a carefully neutral way, "The rest of my plan doesn't matter now." 

He forced his eyes away from her, and he looked at his fingers, noticing for the first time that he was gripping the wood of the doorframe awfully hard. He made himself relax. 

"I did get to see your underwear anyway – sort of -" he acknowledged weakly, his mouth twisting in irony as he fought the compulsion to look at her again. He compromised by letting his eyes wander back to her, but refrained from focusing on any part of her that might be considered, alluring – which meant he ended up staring at the bulky knot of her belt. "Anyway, Princess," he murmured, getting ready to wrap up their conversation and flee, "I think I should -"

"How did you know?" Momiji asked in a rush, cutting of his words of withdrawal.

"Know?" he echoed reluctantly, knowing he really needed to retreat at this point.

'Yes, about the heart underwear. How did you know?" She would have taken a step towards him, but she could see the edginess in his stance, and she was afraid that getting closer to him would drive him from the room.

"I found them when I was ransacking your drawers, collecting all the others," he replied. "They were stuck in the back, but very easy to see. If you had meant for them to be hidden, you did a poor job of picking the right spot. Although it does makes me wonder why you had them hidden in the first place." 

Intensely interested to know the reason, he reluctantly lifted his eyes to her face. 

"Why I hid them? I don't know, exactly," she replied slowly. "Lot's of reasons, I think. –They represent a lot of painful memories in a way, and I think that's probably the main reason - so they wouldn't be a constant reminder of what I had lost. "

Painful memories. 

The day he had discovered that Kaede was still alive. 

Recalling that day, Kusanagi could see how that would have affected Momiji. He grimaced, hating how much his obsession for Kaede had hurt her. "If it hurts that much to remember, then why would you want to keep them at all, Momiji?" he asked quietly, his eyes soft with empathy. 

A fleeting smile crossed her face and she replied, "Because even though the memories were painful, there was always hope for tomorrow. If I had given in to the memories and thrown them away, then it would have been like saying that my feelings for you didn't matter - that I should acknowledge that what I wanted was impossible, and I should just give up. I – I don't think I could ever do that, Kusanagi – give up I mean." Her hands were now twisting fitfully together in front of her while she talked. " - Even after I moved here, and you stayed behind in Tokyo, I still kept them, hoping that one day, you would see them and realize that they meant something to me, that you meant something to me and… realize that I meant something to you too."

"I'm glad you didn't give up, Momiji," he told her softly, "and I hope you'll wear them again some time, Princess, so that I can show you how much I appreciate the sentiment they express, as well as admire the… er... view." 

Choosing these to be his final words, he removed his hand from the door jam, and straightened to a standing position. 

Momiji saw he was getting ready to leave again and, realizing she was completely out of excuses to keep him there, she started getting flustered.

"Wait!" she all but shouted, and then bit her lip, looking helplessly at him. "W-what about now?" she finally managed to stutter. "I mean, would you like to see them now?" Her hands fluttered up to clutch at the lapels of her robe.

Kusanagi gave her a sharp look, hesitating a fraction of a second before he responded. "I don't think that would be such a good idea, Princess. You took quite a beating this afternoon and –"

Pig-headed to the very end, she thought glumly, not even listening to his excuses. Laying aside all modesty and dignity, she resolutely took hold of her courage and thought, _I can be just as pig-headed as you, Kusanagi_. Spinning on her heel, her hair flying in all directions, she quickly unbelted her robe and began to slide it down her shoulders. 

"I know it's not the most attractive view, with the bandages and everything," she mumbled a little apologetically, quickly pulling the robe all the way off, and wadding it into a bundle to hold in front of her chest. "But you should at least – get to – to see them -" she said shyly, her voice getting softer and softer with each syllable, feeling extremely self-conscious despite her sudden determination to be the winner in this battle of wills, "and see what they say without having the added distraction of… having to play… doctor."

There was such a lengthy silence that Momiji wondered if Kusanagi had just turned around and walked off, leaving her standing there alone. That was a lowering thought. Turning her head, she shot a furtive look over her shoulder and was relieved to find him still there, a stony look on his face. 

Her glance seemed to spur him into speech though, for he opened his mouth and croaked, "They… truly are… very… I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so…" he stopped, sheepishly realizing that at that moment, he sounded a lot like Momiji. Pushed to the limits of his endurance, he hurriedly finished, "I really think I should go now."

Momiji bit her lip, her eyes shimmering with vulnerability. She looked away from him, then, turning to stare at the bed, not wanting him to see the desperation on her face. His will was apparently stronger than hers, for in the face of his continued resistance, Momiji knew that she couldn't take the ultimate step of physically reaching out to him to bar him from leaving. Despite the fact that she knew he cared, she was still too afraid of being pushed away, too used to that feeling of failure when he distanced himself from her. 

"Please?" She heard the whispered entreaty, at first not realizing that it had come from her own lips, and then added to it. "Please, don't go, Kusanagi," she beseeched. "I want… I want you to stay. Here. With me." Again there was a lengthy silence, and Momiji closed her eyes, her fingers convulsively tightening around the robe. The silence could only be a sign of his steadfast denial and her head dropped forward in defeat. "I'm sorry," she apologized, fighting for her composure, "I shouldn't have asked you to –" 

Her eyes shot open and her voice wavered, breaking off in surprise. Kusanagi's bronzed arms had encircled her, carefully pulling her back against the warmth of his chest, and she was surprised yet again when she felt his flesh brush against her shoulders - his chest was completely bare, she suddenly realized – he had removed his shirt, which was probably what had taken him so long to respond to her. 

"My god, Momiji," he whispered against her ear, his hands engulfing hers where she still had the robe clutched to her chest, "do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Momiji's only response was to breathe his name in a shaky voice as he slowly removed the robe from her nerveless grasp and let it slide to the floor. Feeling his breath against her ear, she didn't resist him when he switched the position of their hands so that hers rested on top and his were splayed where her robe had been. His fingers rested lightly against her ribcage just beneath the rounded curve of her breasts and their heat penetrated her skin despite the protective gauze covering. 

Momiji curled her fingers around his, almost as if she thought he might pull away and leave her bereft of their warmth. But Kusanagi had no such intentions. His only desire for the moment was to touch her, to feel the satin slide of her skin against his fingers and explore the exquisite curves of her body. Slowly, he moved his hands downwards, his thumbs grasping at Momiji's fingers so that she moved with him. Keeping his touch light, he traced the smooth, flat plane of her abdomen, slowing to circle her navel with his index finger before continuing downwards, his palms curving around her upper thighs, swinging inwards to teasingly graze the area where her thighs joined together.

Momiji made a slight noise in the back of her throat at the whisper of sensation that rippled through her at his touch, and she unconsciously tightened her grip on his hands. He slowly circled the triangular v of her body several times, barely touching her, but already she could feel the heat seeping into her veins where it began to burn.

Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back against his shoulder. Her lips parted as her heart fluttered erratically against her chest and she listened to the sound of Kusanagi's breathing which had become harsh as well, feeling it heat scald her skin as he nuzzled against her neck. 

"Momiji, are you sure this is what you want?" he breathed in a low, hoarse voice.

She didn't respond. He had already stolen any ability she might have had to answer him, and she was completely at his mercy as his hands began to prowl again. They languorously retraced the path they had taken before, not stopping at the bandages but continuing onwards until he was gently cupping her breasts, caressing them with his palms.

A tremor ran through Momiji as his thumbs brushed against her nipples, and she pressed his hands harder against her, feeling her skin tighten as he molded their shape, lightly kneading their supple roundness with his fingers. 

Spasms of pleasure went shooting through her nerve endings, and she squirmed against him, a distressed "No!" torn breathlessly from her when his hands trailed away, relinquishing his hold on hers and gliding up to her shoulders, leaving her breasts aching with longing and her hands seeking his warmth. 

"No?" Kusanagi echoed as he gently turned her to face him. "So you aren't sure that this is what you want?" 

"No - that's not what I meant," she whispered distractedly, the thoughts associated with her words flitting away as she focused on his body and the havoc it was wreaking on hers. She wanted to touch him, her eyes, fixated on his bronzed skin and the taught muscles of his chest and shoulders. She put her fingers up and traced the light pink slash on his right shoulder; all that remained of his wounds from his fight this afternoon. "You're body is amazing, you know that?" she murmured in awe.

She slipped her arms around him and leaned her face against his chest, and Kusanagi's lips quirked into a half smile as he felt the sweep of her lashes flutter lightly against him. "And I hardly even work out," he replied lightly.

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant," she demurred and Kusanagi chuckled.

"Seems you're having trouble saying what you mean tonight, Princess," he remarked, gently disentangling her arms from around him. "I asked you a question and you answered no, which you then promptly recanted – so, tell me, for I'm sure I don't understand - if no doesn't mean no, then – what does it mean?" He slid his fingers through her hair, angling her face upwards so that he could look at her. God but he couldn't get enough of her, he thought, looking at the soft, unfocused color of her eyes. He could make love to her all night long – if she would let him. 

"I wasn't saying no to you," she replied. "I was saying no, because I didn't want you to stop touching me," she murmured lowly.

Kusanagi's fingers tightened against her scalp at her response, but still he hesitated.

"You're absolutely certain, this is what you want?" he asked one last time.

Momiji's eyes suddenly came sharply into focus and she gave him a searching look.

"Why?" she asked, a sliver of hesitancy creeping into her voice. "Is… is this – do you not want this?"

She had barely phrased the question before he was swooping down on her, his mouth covering hers in a series of hungry kisses. 

"I have been fantasizing about this moment for three years," he told her in between kisses, "I think I'd rather show you what I want, instead of tell you." 

He began to back her up, moving her slowly towards the bed, his mouth trailing kisses along her jaw and neck before coming inexorably back to her lips.

"B-but you can tell me too!" Momiji gasped in protest, feeling the back of her knees make contact with the mattress. "I'm not at all sure what I should do."

Kusanagi broke off long enough to pull the sheets back on the bed, before easing her backwards. "Hmmm," he ruminated, settling himself beside her and propping up on his elbow to give her a speculative look. "You seem to have had it well in hand last night," he purred. Idly he trailed his index finger along her cheek, tracing the elegant column of her neck and the curve of her body until he got to her waist. Then he slid his palm around to the small of her back and pulled her closer, stopping only when he could lean down and nibble on her ear. 

Momiji closed her eyes as his mouth played over her skin, and she arched into him, her hands resting against his chest. "But I didn't really do anything last night – at least not that I recall," she mumbled thickly.

"_Mmhmm_," he murmured unintelligibly, and Momiji couldn't tell if he was agreeing with her or not. "I thought you did a splendid job last night, Princess; but then again, I think you're doing a splendid job right now."

"But," she inserted again, her voice wobbling uncontrollably as he nibbled his way down to her shoulder, "I'm not doing anything now.."

He stopped and lifted his face to hers, his eyes sparkling as he told her provocatively, "Trust me, Princess, you're doing plenty –" He pulled closer, pressing his hips against hers and hinting, "You just need to look beyond the surface, to see it." 

A playful smile tweaked the corners of his lips and he kept his eyes steadily pinned to her, waiting.

"You want me to look beyond the surface," she echoed in confusion, her voice trailing off as nodded his head, and then added, "the surface of what?"

"I'm sure if you think a moment, it will come to you," came his oblique reply. 

Kusanagi kept waiting, wondering if he was actually going to have to spell it out for her when he sensed her move slightly, a questioning look on her face. A tentative brush of her fingers was followed by a weak tug as her hand slipped past his navel to the button on his jeans, and he gave her a slow, feline smile.

"See," he purred, his smile widening, "I knew you could figure it out."

So, he wanted her to remove his pants. 

Biting her lip, her eyes drifted down to where her fingers were. Momiji had never removed someone else's pants before, but - how hard could it be? It couldn't be any harder than removing your own pants, surely? she conjectured. And yet, as she tried easing the silver, metallic button free from its mooring, it seemed to mock her logically drawn conclusion, confounding her efforts with every twist and turn, by not budging in the slightest. 

Momiji stared at it, its silver face glinting up at her in the light. Was it just her, or did it seem like it was laughing at her? 

Fool, she hissed at herself. It was just an ordinary button! Okay, maybe not an _ordinary_ button, she silently amended when success at freeing it continued to elude her – but it was still just a stupid button! All she needed was to get a better grip on it, she thought distractedly. Drawing her brows together in a frown; the tip of her tongue peeked out to touch her upper lip in a pose of intense concentration. Locking her fingers in a death grip she began an intense struggle, pulling and jiggling and, as a last resort, violently jerking. Unbelievable, she thought in consternation, her eyes flying back to Kusanagi's face when she heard him chuckle. 

"Losing the battle, Princess??" he asked. Flashing her a grin, he plucked her fingers away from the button, giving them a light squeeze before letting them go. "Don't worry; you might have lost the battle, but not the war. It's probably better for me to do it anyway, since you don't have a very good track record with buttons. I am somewhat amazed though, that you haven't managed to completely yank this one off yet."

His eyes twinkled down at her and she gave him a sheepish look when, in less than a split second, the button became a non-issue as it was slipped free and Kusanagi shifted to pull his jeans off. As Momiji watched him, she was assailed by a sudden, overwhelming sense of unease. She knew the mechanics of sex; who didn't? But what if she did something incredibly stupid - like with the button just now? After all, she knew very little about - she paused searching for the right word, and the only one that came to mind was, _ technique_. She swallowed several times trying to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat as she watched Kusanagi's hands hesitate on the brink of removing his underwear. 

God please, _don't let me embarrass myself_ _this first time_, she lamented silently.

Kusanagi focused on Momiji and noted how she watched his hands in a kind of frozen fascination. Fear and uncertainty danced across her face along with a myriad of other emotions and he decided to wait a bit before removing his last piece of clothing. Instead he stretched out next to her, reaching for her, his hands caressing the soft skin of her shoulders before moving towards her face, his thumbs brushing along her jaw line. 

"Relax, Momiji," he told her, dropping his earlier teasing manner and giving her a reassuring smile, "This isn't a test."

She started at his words. A humorous glint flared unexpectedly in her eyes, and Kusanagi sensed some of her unease dissipating.

"Not a test?" she remarked, trying to achieve a light, bantering tone, "I thought perhaps this might be classed as field study - or is this not part of the curriculum to the doctor's lessons you mentioned earlier?"

Completely caught of guard by her sudden coyness, Kusanagi gave an appreciative laugh, the sound low and seductive, "Hmm," he paused in mock deliberation, his intense gaze roaming over the beautiful curves of her body as he let his fingers play up and down her spine. "I think this definitely could be classed as some highly intensive field study, since there are several noteworthy regions that I would like for us to explore. I could tell you to make mental notes on those areas that we touch on," he gave her a wolfish smile as he spoke, adding, "- but somehow, Princess, I doubt you'll need them. You seem to be well equipped to deal with any situation that might arise," he murmured wickedly. "The only thing left to do now is familiarize yourself with the, er, tools, that will play a key part in our research." He lead one of her hands down his body until it was resting against his groin and with light movements, brushed her fingers against him, watching her eyes widen as she felt the hard length of his arousal beneath the fabric of his underwear. "Every doctor relies on tools, and knowing what they are will give you a distinct advantage, for as you must know, a doctor cannot hope to excel unless he has the proper tools." 

A little self-conscious at first, Momiji brushed her fingers against him, her hesitancy dissolving into a patent interest at how rigid he felt pressed against her hand. "I'm guessing that you must be an excellent doctor," Momiji replied, her face flushing with color at her admission, "since you seem to have, _ahem, _top of the line equipment." 

Now her face was bright red, and Kusanagi gave a throaty laugh.

"Flattery will get you every where with this doctor, Ms. Fujimiya," he assured her, leaning down to nibble on her jaw. "And so will what you're doing with your hand," he groaned as she continued to stroke him.

His reaction to her touch fueled her own desire and, closing her eyes, Momiji began to wonder what his flesh would feel like without the barrier of cloth. Not realizing her intentions, Kusanagi experienced a moment of intense shock as Momiji's hand breached the waistband of his underwear, slipping inside to grasp him, softly stroking his silken flesh. A ragged groan rose in the back of his throat and he pulled her hand free, realizing that he was on the brink of release as his nerve endings began to throb.

Momiji's eyes flew open in concern to find him staring at her an almost pained expression in his eyes. 

"D-did I do something wrong?" she stammered, confused.

"Oh no," he quickly reassured her in a rough voice. He was still holding her hand, and he guided it up his body, enjoying the soft, cool feel of her fingertips trailing across his skin. "You are doing everything very right, Momiji. – A little too right, actually."

Momiji's mouth formed a small oh, as comprehension dawned and she automatically lifted her other arm to join the first which Kusanagi had placed around his neck. 

"Now that you're a little more familiar with things, I think it's time to move on to the bulk of the lesson," he murmured, sliding his arms around her. He moved closer to her, until her breasts brushed against the warmth of his chest, making them become tight, and she closed her eyes. "Are you ready?" he asked softly. 

His hands became entangled in her hair and his fingers climbed through her tresses to her scalp. Momiji responded by arching into him. Everything about him, his skin, his smell, the way he touched her – inflamed her senses, and the shadow of her worries disintegrated. 

"Yes," she breathed, her lips automatically parting when she felt his breath fall against her face.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her arms tightened around him as Kusanagi's mouth touched hers, softly at first and then with growing hunger, as his tongue insinuated itself into her mouth, sliding rhythmically against hers with its velvety softness as the urgency of their kiss grew. The fire in Momiji's veins exploded into raging need, and her hands slid restlessly through the soft, dark strands of silk at the nape of his neck, trying to pull him even closer, as she worked to mold her body against his but with little success. 

Fully understanding what she wanted, Kusanagi helped her by gently rolling her onto her back, his body following hers as he eased himself on top of her. 

Balancing on his elbows, his broke their kiss long enough to look down at her in concern and ask, "Am I hurting your back?"

"No," Momiji quickly assured him.

Her reply ended in a gasp as Kusanagi's lips began exploring her body with sensual deliberation and his fingers trailed along in their wake causing Momiji's chest to rise and fall rapidly. 

When he got to her hips, Kusanagi hooked his fingers around her panties and began to pull them down, pausing to say, "As nice as these are, I think it's time to lose them if we want our lesson to proceed."

Shifting away from her, he made quick work of removing them, removing his at the same time before coming back to her. Now it was flesh against flesh, and he nudged her legs apart, making her body vulnerable to him as he slid between her thighs, aching to bury himself inside of her. But he couldn't. Not yet, he told himself.

"Everything about you is so beautiful," he whispered, kissing her. 

His breathing became ragged as he let his fingers drift over her body before finding her center and stroking her. Momiji gasped, arching into him as he fed the liquid heat between her thighs. A tension began to build deep inside, and she reached for him, desperate to touch him again. Her fingers brushed the velvety smoothness of his shaft and Kusanagi groaned, leaning heavily against her as she matched the rhythm of her stroke to his. 

Kusanagi felt the caged wildness in his veins begin to break free and he shifted again, placing her hand around his neck as he pressed himself against her. He eased into her until he felt the barrier of her virginity and then he stopped. After a moment, he slowly let his body pick up where his fingers had left off, rhythmically moving into her as far as her barrier before retreating again.

Momiji whimpered, and the wildness surging through his body responded to the sound, urging him to bury himself all the way inside her. But Kusanagi gritted his teeth, purposefully maintaining his slow, shallow stroke. He knew what was to come and he wanted to wait, wanted Momiji's desire to build until the last possible moment. He wanted her first time to be good, and if he gave in to his desire now, he knew that wasn't likely to happen.

But Momiji didn't seem to want him to wait. 

The tension deep inside her had become an almost unbearable pleasure and instinctively she arched her back, trying to drive him deeper, using the soft folds of her body to beckon to him. Kusanagi managed to evade her efforts until she wrapped her legs around him and angled her hips up, rolling against him in a smooth motion.

"Momiji, no!" he warned urgently, his voice guttural and ragged. 

He put his hands on her thighs and tried to push her away, but she refused to heed him, listening instead to the rhythm of her body as it propelled her onward. Her breath coming in gasps, she continued to roll her hips against him and at last, he shuddered, unable to take any more. 

"Oh, god!" he cried in agony. 

Burying his face against her neck, he followed her movements and surged forward, tearing through the thin membrane of her maidenhood until he was deep inside her. Her body was incredibly tight and warm, and he thought he would die if he didn't start moving. But he had felt Momiji go rigid at his invasion, had heard her sharply indrawn breath, and he used every ounce of his strength to remain still, guilt and remorse plaguing him for having taken her so brutally.

"Momiji?" he finally managed, in a raspy, dry voice, lifting himself to look down at her. Her green eyes were dark with pain. "I'm so sorry, Princess," he whispered contritely.

Momiji gripped Kusanagi's shoulders, her body throbbing in white hot pain. It felt like he was stretching her beyond her endurance, and she could feel the plea for him to stop trembling on her lips despite the fact that he wasn't moving. This wasn't his fault, she thought, seeing his stricken look, and she struggled to keep the grimace off of her face. After a moment some of the raw pain subsided and she was able to give him a tight smile.

"I'm okay," she assured him unevenly.

"Liar," he murmured softly, brushing his fingers along the sudden beads of sweat that had broken out against her forehead. "I shouldn't have been so rough."

"No, Kusanagi," she countered earnestly, "It's not your fault. I – I wanted… this. –"

"No you didn't," he replied, referring to the pain.

"Stop," she demanded, her fingers feathering against his jaw. "It's all right," she assured him, her eyes never wavering from his. "It only hurts a little now, and maybe if I just – " she began and tried shifting beneath him to try and relieve the feeling of fullness she had.

Kusanagi shuddered when she did and pressed his body tighter against her, wracked by a spasm of intense pleasure. 

"_No! _Please… don't… _do that,_" came his tortured request. 

As he pressed deeper into her, Momiji felt another twinge, and she tensed, waiting for the pain to slice through her. But it didn't. Instead she was assailed by a pleasurable ripple of sensation and as it faded, she experimentally shifted again, curling her body upwards.

Kusanagi made a choking sound and closed his eyes.

"Momiji!" he hissed between gritted teeth. 

He was so busy trying not to climax that he almost didn't hear Momiji's low moan. Quickly jerking his eyes open, he looked down at her in alarm. _Dear god, why? _He silently groaned. He hadn't meant it to be this way. She was biting her lip, as if in excruciating pain, and her eyes were closed, but as he watched, they opened and focused on him. He kept looking at her, feeling so helpless, not knowing how to salvage the situation.

"Momiji, I –" he began but she interrupted him.

"I know you said not to," she breathed in a barely audible voice, "but… can I do that one more time? It felt – " 

She never finished her sentence, instead squeezing her eyes closed, as another low moan rose in the back of her throat. Kusanagi hadn't waited for her to finish once he realized what she was saying, and he had already taken the initiative, first slowly withdrawing, and then, just as carefully, thrusting back into her. 

"- Like this?" he finished her sentence for her, his voice so taught it was near the breaking point.

Momiji wildly nodded her head, raising her hips to meet his thrusts and together, they moved in a slow rhythm. Kusanagi stared down at her, enthralled by the sheer pleasure written across her face. For her, he thought; at that moment, he existed only for her. Leaning down he brushed his lips against her, deepening the kiss as their pace began to quicken.

Momiji was pulled into the strong swirl of sensation that was building within her and she writhed beneath Kusanagi, desperately clinging to him as his thrusts became faster and more powerful. Immersing herself inside the solitary rhythm of their joined bodies; there was no beginning to her and no end to him; only the swelling tide of pleasure that unified them. Suddenly, Momiji's body began to quiver and her climax hit her hard, crashing over her with incredible intensity. She cried out and heard Kusanagi's voice mingle with hers as he stiffened, driving deeply into her one last time before collapsing weakly on top of her, his face pressed against her neck.

Momiji lay stunned, staring at the ceiling and clutching at Kusanagi's shoulders, feeling an incredible sense of belonging fill her as she waited for the tumultuous tattoo of her heart to slow. Kusanagi remained motionless for several long moments, but slowly, his breathing became more regular, and Momiji felt him press his lips to her throat, murmuring her name before he shifted to his side, pulling her along with him so that their legs remained entangled and she lay within the cradle of his arms. 

Together, they remained entwined, a complete stillness settling between them. Momiji glanced up at Kusanagi's face, wondering what he was thinking, but he had his eyes closed and she was reluctant to disturb him, so she settled back against him and let her own eyes drift close. 

Feeling the warmth of Momiji pressed against him, Kusanagi's body relaxed, but some emotion deep inside him began to churn, something he had never felt before. It was rising steadily within him, and he sought to find a name for it. 

Love? 

Is that what this was, he asked himself in confusion. 

But he already knew that he loved Momiji, so why did this feel so different? 

Because you're finally free, a voice whispered inside him. 

Free? he thought. 

Free. 

The word echoed again and again through his mind until he finally began to understand. His love had always bore the heavy price of sacrifice, since he'd never allowed himself the freedom to express it or accept Momiji's love in return. The pain of that sacrifice had become complexly intertwined with his feelings, and the heavy mantle woven from their union had been the only concept of what love was supposed to mean. But now, lying here; every dream and waking desire realized, the restrictive layers that had once strangled and confined the real fulfillment and joy of what true love could mean began to unravel, and the simpler truth emerged, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. It unfurled inside him, triggering an emotion so pure that he felt the ridiculously overwhelming urge to cry. It was such a strong impulse, and he needed to find a release for it before it exploded into pent up tears. Words were his only weapon against the onslaught that threatened him, but would they be enough? 

Suddenly shaking with emotion, Kusanagi tightened his arms around Momiji, until her face was pressed into the hollow of his neck. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth, his voice breaking in a desperate attempt to remain in control. "I love you, Momiji."

It didn't even begin to describe the magnitude of what he felt, of what he wanted to tell her, and yet she seemed to understand. 

Burrowing deeper into him, her hand fluttered up to his chin, moving across his jaw in a comforting gesture, she whispered, "Say it again."

Drawing in a deep breath, he repeated with more strength this time, "I love you."

"That's all I ever wanted, Kusanagi." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I love you too."

Stifling a yawn, Momiji stretched, and tried to reach for her cup of tea without disturbing Noa who had just drifted back to sleep. Between the baby and Kusanagi, Momiji had gotten very little sleep the night before – not that she was complaining, she thought, her heart thudding a little faster. 

"Good morning, Princess," she heard Kusanagi drawl from the kitchen door.

She turned her head to give him a smile, watching him saunter across the kitchen in her direction. Six thirty in the morning and he looked as handsome as ever in his faded jeans and black t-shirt. _Why couldn't she look like that in the mornings? _she wondered plaintively, feeling extremely rumpled. Noa had woken her up for the fourth time at around a quarter to six, hungry again and she hadn't even stopped to brush her hair before throwing on a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, trying to hurry before his crying woke Kusanagi up as well. 

"Did Noa wake you?" she asked, as he came to a stop beside her, looking down at her.

"No," he told her, a twinkle in his eyes, "you did."

"Me?" Momiji started.

"Yes," he replied, his lips twitching. He leaned down until he was inches from her face and then said, "you didn't really think I was going to sleep after you were gone did you?"

"Well, I –" Momiji stuttered, feeling her face brighten.

"I mean you hogged the bed all night long and once you left, I just didn't know what to do with all that space!" he grinned, planting a quick kiss on her lips before straightening up and moving over to the stove to get a cup of tea.

"Kusanagi!" Momiji exclaimed, her eyes following him. "That's not true!"

"Careful, Princess, or you'll wake the baby," he remarked, coming to sit down at the table next to her. 

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes sliding over her. She looked tired, but she seemed happy, he thought, noting the content look on her pretty face. "How are you feeling this morning, Momiji?" he wanted to know. "Are you in any pain?"

"Not at all," she smiled, "I haven't had a chance to change my bandages yet, but it feels much better than it did yesterday."

"Hmm, that's good," he said slowly, "but that's not what I was really asking about."

"It's not?" she asked, surprised.

"No. It's not." He shot her a meaningful look but it was lost on her and he could see that he was going to have to explain it. Taking a deep breath, he said as casually as he could, "I am talking about last night. You were in a lot of pain, and I - was not as gentle as I might have been. There was some blood on the sheets this morning, and I was worried that I was too rough." 

"I'm fine." Momiji gave him a small smile, touched by his concern. "And you were wonderful," she assured him shyly, "I can hardly wait for my next lesson."

Kusanagi's smile was tinged with relief.

"I don't think you need any extra lessons," he remarked lightly. "In fact, I'm beginning to wonder just who was teaching whom last night." 

Momiji laughed a little but stopped when the expression on Kusanagi's face changed, becoming taught and alert. He whipped to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards and looked towards the window.

"What is it?" Momiji asked, fear clutching at her throat.

"We're being spied on," he told her in a low voice, moving to look out through the windowpane. He scanned the backyard and saw it then, and his eyes narrowed. "Aragami," he hissed.

Momiji climbed to her feet and started towards him, but he waved his arm at her, telling her to stay back. Darting to the door, he looked back over his shoulder at her, his eyes hard with anger. "This one is on the run. More than likely it was sent to find Noa and then report back to whoever sent it," he concluded. "Call Kunikida," he ordered her, "he'll get someone from the Self - Defense Force out here to protect you until I get back."

"Where are you going?" Momiji called after him as he went through the door.

"I'm going to find out who this damned monster calls Master," he told her and then he closed the door behind him, flitting towards the line of trees before disappearing altogether. 


	37. 36: Stranger Than Fiction

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Midori sat in her cubicle on the fourth floor of the mostly deserted TAC building, staring with glassy eyes at the molecular formulas on her computer screen. Had it been hours or just minutes, she wondered listlessly. There was no way for her to tell unless she looked at her watch, for the windowless room was lit only by the stark rows of fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling. The harsh light from above created a feeling of timelessness where there was no day and no night, a sensation further fostered by the constant stillness which remained unbroken by the outside world. 

Ever since she had returned, she, along with every other person in the city, had been bombarded with images and information regarding the mysterious deaths that seemed to be escalating throughout the metropolitan area. But here in this artificial environment, none of that seemed real. Here, she felt as if she could shut out the present, and forget the past. Here, life was intransient; undisturbed – completely void of all meaning. It was like existing inside a cocoon where there was just her, and the blinking cursor on her computer screen. Nothing else.

That was how she wanted it to be, that's how it felt right this minute. But that wasn't how it really was. Midori had come here hoping to escape everything that had happened to her over the past week - to enshroud herself in the sterility of this place; to immerse herself in the flow of data and research and drown the futility of her thoughts. 

Oblivion: that was the elusive draw of this cocoon - making her believe that it might be possible to forget. But from the start, reality had proven too strong for the fragile threads Midori was trying to weave around herself. Reality had intruded into her consciousness in the form of Ms. Matsudaira who had met her down in the lobby of the TAC building early this morning. It had clouded Ms. Matsudaira's eyes with concern, and troubled her brow with care, starkly reminding Midori that the lives of others, possibly millions of others, could be affected by the information that she was keeping to herself. 

How she truly wished that she could erase the past week. Then she wouldn't have had to face those inevitable questions this morning; questions that Midori knew Matsu had every right to ask, like: what had happened at the iwatto, and why hadn't Midori bothered to phone the others and let them know she was safe? Midori had known that the questions would come. She had even tried to prepare herself for them, spending an entire sleepless night thinking of what she should do, what she would say. In the end, she had once again let her foolish heart take precedence and decided that she would continue to maintain her silence regarding Murakumo, relying on the story that she had given Kusanagi to suffice. 

But Midori wasn't used to lying, and her conscience had weighed heavily upon her as she had stuttered her way through the weak story she had fabricated. Matsu had listened to her tale with consideration, far more consideration than Midori would have given it had their positions been reversed. And Midori was truly grateful for the older woman's tact, because she knew that her story wasn't fooling Matsu. Not even close. 

"Midori," Matsu had finally said, her grey eyes solemnly moving over her assistant's pallid features, "I don't know what happened to you, but I do know that you're an intelligent girl. If you truly thought that what you knew was a threat, then I think that no matter what the circumstances, you would tell the rest of us." Matsu had placed her hand on Midori's shoulder as she spoke, and Midori, riddled with guilt, had been unable to hold her gaze. But then, Midori had felt her body stiffen as Matsu added, "All the same, I feel I should warn you. Mr. Kunikida has already told me that he wants to speak with you on this matter. I know you're not used to dealing with him, and he can seem rather harsh at times," Matsu squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, "but try not to let his gruffness alarm you. He truly is a kind man. And," Matsu had hesitated at this point, before finishing, "if you can find it within yourself to tell him what happened, I know that he will do everything in his power to help you deal with whatever it is that's troubling you."

Midori had nodded in understanding, and Ms. Matsudaira had stood there for one moment longer, looking as if she wished to add something else, but she hadn't. Instead, she had followed Midori up to her cubicle where they began going over the details of the TAC's current investigation and battle with the Tengugaki. Nothing more was mentioned about the week that Midori had been missing, or about what might or might not have occurred inside the iwatto. 

Matsu had spent several hours showing her all of the data they had collected thus far on the radio isotopes and what she was hoping to accomplish by isolating strands in the genetic code. She had given Midori the codes to work on, knowing that Midori was excellent at separating inessential coding and identifying genetic tags that were distinctive to some of the more complex protein chains. So Midori had spent her entire morning sitting in her cubicle, trying to lose herself in the long strands of code, while in the back of her mind lurked the dreaded knowledge that Mr. Kunikida would be coming to meet with her.

You wouldn't have to worry about this _if you would just tell him what really happened, _a small voice chided.

Why was she continuing to protect him anyway_?_ she was forced to ask herself miserably. She knew what he was, what he was capable of doing, rejecting him in her thoughts just by refusing to acknowledge his name. He was gone, so it shouldn't matter if she told the TAC about him. She had protected him long enough, surely?

But the reason for eschewing Murakumo's name had nothing to do with rejecting him and everything to do with the effect that it had on her heart. Even when it was spoken only in her thoughts, she couldn't control the rapid racing of her heartbeat. And why should she have to tell them about him when, so far, he'd done nothing wrong? As long as he remained inconspicuous and quiet, then how was she hurting anything by remaining silent herself_?_ Besides, wasn't it natural to want to protect someone you loved?

She didn't have time to further debate the issue with herself before the phone on her desk chirped, making her jump as the sound flooded the vacuum of silence surrounding her.

"Fujisawa," she answered automatically

"Midori!" 

Midori recognized Momiji's cheerful voice right away, and her heart pounded; whether in relief or in dread, she wasn't quite certain which. 

"Momiji!" Midori intoned, infusing her voice with false brightness to try and match her friend's genuine tone, "it's so good to hear from you! Did Kusanagi tell you that I saw him yesterday?"

"Well, yes," Momiji responded, "that's one of the reasons why I am calling. He was concerned, as we all were -"

"He's staying with you there, isn't he, Momiji?" Midori rushed on, ignoring Momiji's comments to try and avoid any questions that might go with them.

"Yes, he is –" Momiji just barely managed to insert.

"That's so great!" Midori exclaimed, "I had hoped things would work out between you two! I just couldn't imagine you guys not being together – it just didn't seem right somehow."

"Well," Momiji paused awkwardly. This wasn't exactly how she had planned the conversation to go. But perhaps it would be easier this way. If she talked for a while, then maybe she could help narrow the distance that she felt Midori trying to put between them. "– yes, you could say that things between Kusanagi and I are traveling along at the speed of light."

"Really? How so?" Midori wanted to know.

"He – he – asked me to marry him last night," Momiji confessed quietly, all too aware of the nervous current that lay beneath the surface of her friend's voice.

Midori sat in stunned silence for a moment. She had been completely unprepared for what Momiji said. 

"You're… you're right," Midori uttered weakly, "that is definitely traveling at the speed of light, considering that not even a month ago, you thought he'd gone forever." 

Midori stopped, a funny feeling beginning to settle over her. She was truly happy for Momiji, but despite that, Midori could feel her heart squeezing itself into a tight knot over what a shambles her own life had become in comparison to her friend's. 

"Congratulations, Momiji," Midori murmured, her enthusiasm sounding brittle in her own ears. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her own troubles aside and managed to drum up a bit of real enthusiasm. "I sincerely hope you said yes."

"Well, yes," Momiji responded sheepishly, "several times, actually."

"That sounds like you," Midori replied with a ghost of a chuckle. "- So… when is the wedding to be?" 

Absently, she picked up a pencil from her desk, rolling it between her fingers as the hard lump in the middle of her chest began to sink and settle in the pit of her stomach, spreading uncomfortably outward.

"I'm not sure," Momiji replied as Midori struggled to concentrate on her words, "but soon, I think. Kusanagi doesn't want to wait, and neither do I; especially considering what is happening with the Tengugaki and the possibility that the Aragami are –" 

Midori bit her lip and tightly clenched her brown eyes closed for a long second, bracing herself as Momiji broke off, knowing with full certainty what would be coming next.

"Midori, I – you're not acting like yourself." There was a long, uncomfortable silence and Momiji awkwardly tried to fill it. "I know there's something wrong. You seem," she hesitated, searching for the right word, "- hurt. What happened to you at the iwatto that day?"

This was the one person that Midori longed to confess to, the one person whom she trusted above all others. Momiji would understand. Midori knew she would understand. Midori's throat crowded with tears. She couldn't tell her, though, because of Kusanagi. But even as she accepted this sad fact, words were already beginning to seep out, spilling over the wall of silence she had erected. And Midori knew that if she didn't let them flow, she would lose complete control and her carefully erected façade would shatter entirely.

"It was – horrifying," she mumbled tightly. 

Closing her eyes, she relived that day in her mind, seeing the mottled slimy skin of the Tengugaki, its grotesque frame bent over Murakumo as it struggled to overpower him. She could still hear its harsh cry, and a chill crept over her, making her blood run cold. 

"Poor Midori," Momiji comforted sympathetically, "You must have been terrified."

Midori 's brown eyes snapped open, stretched wide and sightless as she stared in front of her, her body beginning to shake with suppressed emotion, still locked in the memory of that day. 

"It was going to kill him," she whispered, unaware that her words had caused Momiji to hold her breath, afraid that the slightest noise would keep her from continuing. "I could hear him struggling with it – trying to keep it from tearing him apart - pinned beneath it. He was going to die," she repeated, her voice taking on a desperate note, an echo of the urgency she felt back then, "At the time, I didn't know that he was –" her voice faded out for a moment and then got stronger, "but even if I had known, I still couldn't let it kill him – no one deserves to die like that.." 

There was a defensive note in her voice as if she expected Momiji to disagree with her, but Momiji had no intention of agreeing or disagreeing. She just remained silent, wanting Midori to continue. 

"I hit it in the back with my hammer. It was the only thing that I had - and it let him go, but then, it came after me. It was so – huge – so – overwhelmingly… evil," her voice quavered, and she was oblivious as the pencil in her fingers snapped. "I really thought that I was going to die… I really did, but…" she stopped and Momiji waited. 

She didn't add anything and Momiji quietly prompted, "But what, Midori?"

"It didn't even get a chance to touch me," she finished, her voice oddly calm. "He was covered in his own blood, and could barely stand up on his own feet; but instead of fleeing for safety, he attacked the Tengugaki to save me. He had nothing to gain for doing so, and yet he did it anyway.

Momiji realized after a few long, silent moments that Midori had volunteered all the information that she was going to.

"Who, Midori?" Momiji demanded, "who was he?"

"Who?" Midori repeated in a soft, confused voice, almost as if she didn't understand the question.

"Who?" Momiji prompted a little more urgently this time, realizing that her opportunity to find out was slipping away.

Midori looked at the broken pencil lying on her desk, remembering how broken Murakumo had been.

"I – I can't, Momiji," Midori replied, stricken, the distress at having to deny telling her best friend clearly reflected in her voice. "Please, don't ask me," she whispered beseechingly. "Isn't what I've told you enough?"

"There was green blood in the iwatto, Midori, and the Tengugaki don't have green blood. That can only mean that he was Aragami," Momiji supplied, knowing that Midori already knew this fact. "Why won't you tell me who he is?" she demanded after another long moment, struggling to understand her friend's reticence. Only silence greeted her question, and Momiji sighed and tried coming at it from a different angle. "What happened after you left the iwatto? Did he follow you? Threaten to hurt you if you said anything?"

"He was in no shape to threaten me or anyone else for that matter," Midori replied, even though she had no trouble recalling the many threats that Murakumo had made against her. 

But that was different, she silently defended, because she knew that they were empty words that he couldn't carry out. And she knew he had known that as well, especially when he ended up in the floor, flat on his face. 

"I thought for a while that he was going to die," she admitted.

"A while....? - does that mean that you were – with him the entire time?" Momiji asked, alarmed, "- This whole past week?"

"- I couldn't just leave him at the iwatto, Momiji! I know for sure he would have died then," Midori defended.

Momiji closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against them in frustration. This was getting complicated. Much more complicated that Momiji could have ever imagined. The Aragami were a fearsome race, and Momiji could have understood Midori being afraid to tell anyone about what had happened, afraid of recriminations from an angry Aragami if he found out that he'd been betrayed by a human. But the fear that she felt was driving Midori was far from the kind engendered by the threat of violence or anger. She couldn't yet understand it, but it did tell her one thing. It told her that the Aragami hadn't been Orochi.

If it had been the great dragon Orochi, then Midori would not have survived her encounter with the Tengugaki. That left only Murakumo or perhaps another unknown Aragami altogether. But because Kusanagi had recognized the energy pattern, Momiji felt that it had to be Murakumo. He was the only logical choice. The only thing that eluded her now was a plausible reason why Midori was afraid to tell her who he was. And then, Momiji's thoughts were arrested by a single notion that began to take shape, and grow.

"You're in love with him, - this Aragami that you saved –" Momiji stated in stunned certainty after a protracted silence. "- aren't you, Midori?" 

"Me!? In Love? N-n- "

"It's Murakumo, isn't it?" Momiji interjected grimly, cutting off Midori's denial, and felt her stomach sink when she heard her friend's softly indrawn breath.

"I – I – " Midori stuttered. 

"The TAC need to know," Momiji said.

"No," Midori flatly denied.

"You need to tell them," Momiji continued as if she hadn't heard Midori's refusal.

"No!" Midori repeated more vehemently.

Oh god, what was she supposed to do now? Momiji thought with dread. She felt horrible knowing that she was going to have to betray her friend's feelings.

-Then you leave me no choice, Midori. I'll have to tell them," Momiji informed her painfully. "He is too dangerous. Surely you realize that?"

"What? - No! Please, Momiji!" Midori objected desperately, "you can't! What if I said that you were wrong? That it wasn't him?"

"I know it would be a lie," Momiji softly observed. "I know you too well for that."

"Please, you don't understand –" Midori entreated again, trying her best to reign in her alarm, and then she broke off when she heard someone clear their throat from behind her.

Swinging around in her chair, she saw Mr. Kunikida framed within the entrance to her cubicle, and she wondered how much of her conversation with Momiji he'd overheard. "H-h-hello, s-s-sir. I'll be right with you," she managed to stutter before turning furtively away to speak to Momiji in an almost inaudible voice. "Mr. Kunikida is here."

"Please, Midori, tell him what you know. - Don't make me betray your trust!" Momiji urged after straining to understand her friend's words.

Midori clenched her fingers together, fighting the clash of emotions inside her. 

"I'm sorry," she finally murmured woodenly. "I can't. I've got to go." 

Midori hurriedly disconnected Momiji and then turned her chair around and slowly stood up, hiding her bandaged hand behind her back and smoothing the damp palm of her other one against the dark material of her skirt. "I'm terribly sorry, sir," she apologized with terrified politeness as she bowed, feeling insignificantly small in comparison to the director of the TAC's broad frame. "I hope you weren't waiting there too long?"

"Not at all," Mr. Kunikida assured her blandly as he noted her obvious unease. 

He was quite aware of the unspoken question she was asking, but he was unwilling to tell her. He wanted the unvarnished truth from her, and he didn't think he would get it if she knew how long he'd been standing there. She would mostly likely try to find a way to work around what he'd overheard, determined to hide the truth because of her feelings for the Aragami whom she'd helped and who, it seemed, had helped her as well.

"I just wanted to go over a few questions about your encounter with the Tengugaki, Ms. Fujisawa, and I'm hoping that you can clear up a few details," He began brusquely.

Midori nodded mutely, her brown eyes staring timidly up at him.

"I'll do my best, sir," she mumbled appropriately, while inwardly quaking in fear.

"I'm sure you will," Mr. Kunikida replied cordially with a small smile. "How long have you been with us now, Ms. Fujisawa?" He asked, his first question catching her a little off balance, since it was not in the vein she had expected.

"I'm not sure, sir," Midori replied uncertainly, trying hard to make her brain function properly so that she might respond. "I think it's been close to two years now."

"And in all that time, has anyone done anything or said anything to suggest that you don't belong here?" 

"No, of course not sir," Midori assured him stiltedly.

"Even when you'd made mistakes?" Mr. Kunikida probed further, his eyebrow soaring.

Midori finally understood what he was getting at with the dawning realization that he must have overheard quite a bit of her conversation with Momiji. 

Looking away from him, she softly acknowledged, "No one has ever suggested that I don't belong here, sir. Everyone has always been very kind to me."

"You are a part of this team, Ms. Fujisawa, no matter what happens." Mr. Kunikida informed her and Midori, feeling as if he was chastening her for forgetting that fact, nodded her head. "- And as a part of this team, I expect you to always do your best." Midori nodded again, her eyes remaining steadfastly lowered. "You were sent to the iwatto in Takachiho to gather rock and water samples from the area, but while you were there, something occurred to keep you from carrying out your assignment. A further investigation of the site by other members of the team revealed the decapitated body of a Tengugaki and your satchel containing your keys, your tools, and your lab I.D.; but you were nowhere to be found, and your failure to report in alarmed us all. 

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that knowing you're safe was, and still is, the most important thing; but still, there are procedures and protocols that must be followed, no matter what the circumstances. Those procedures have been sadly compromised in this case, and no one is really certain as to what exactly happened inside that cave. Most troubling of all the missing details is how the Tengugaki lost its head and why Aragami blood was discovered there. However, now that you have returned to work, I am sure you can help us solve these mysteries. Isn't that so, Ms. Fujisawa?"

Midori stared at the floor, feeling like a trapped animal. Help them solve the identity of the Aragami? She could do that, just as Momiji had advised her to, but Midori wondered if Momiji would have considered it so cut and dried if she'd been the one in that iwatto that day and the Aragami had been Kusanagi and not Murakumo. 

If she refused to answer his question, Midori wondered what he would do. She finally looked up at Mr. Kunikida then. He was gazing steadily at her, his eyes, stern and yet, not unkind. He was expecting an answer and she had none to give. If she told him, then she was betraying her feelings towards Murakumo. But if she didn't tell him, then she was betraying what she knew to be right. 

"Daitetsu!" Ryoko Kunikida urgently called, cutting through Midori's agonizing thoughts as she came rushing towards Midori's cubicle, her face pulled into taught lines of alarm.

"What's wrong," Mr. Kunikida automatically asked, his craggy face falling into a heavy scowl as she hurriedly rushed into speech. 

"Aragami and Tengugaki have been spotted in an underground railway tunnel near Shinjuku Gyoenma station!"

Mr. Kunikida stiffened in alarm, reaching for his cell phone and dialing it even before Ryoko had finished speaking. He put the cell phone to his ear as he tersely demanded, "Which direction were they heading?"

"Towards Yotsuya station." Ryoko supplied, her blue eyes pinned anxiously to her husband's face.

Mr. Kunikida jerked his head in a nod and then without preamble began speaking into the phone, "Kome, it's Kunikida. There's been a sighting. Gather the team. I want you and Yaegashi to head to the Shinjuki Gyoenma station where Ryoko and I will meet you. Have Matsu, Sakura and Sugishita head to Yotsuya. Ryoko is phoning the transit department right now," he made a motion to his wife, and she immediately acted upon it by pulling out her own cell phone. "She'll have them close down the lines all around that area. Be aware that it's not just Tengugaki that have been sighted in the region but also Aragami. I want you to be prepared to go into the tunnels, but wait for Ryoko and myself to get there. If anything emerges before we get there, call the Self-Defense Force for backup. Is that understood?"

Kome's answer was brief and to the point, because less than a second later, Kunikida was putting his phone in his pocket, his eyes swinging back towards Midori.

"The information that you have might be the only advantage we get in facing our enemy," he informed her intently without pretense.

"Don't you know I mean to destroy you?"

Murakumo's words rose in her mind and she knew now that he had come out of hiding, she couldn't protect him anymore – he'd meant to warn her of her own destruction by his hand, although what he'd failed to realize is that she would have willingly given him her life if it meant keeping him safe; but the lives of others – they were not his to take, not if it was in her power to prevent that from happening.

"It was Murakumo," Midori told him quietly and without hesitation. "He was the Aragami in Takachiho."

Mr. Kunikida stepped forward and put his hand on Midori's shoulder. Much to her surprise, he gave it a light, comforting squeeze before stepping back. There was no condemnation, no recriminations. Just a simple thank you, and then he and Ryoko were gone. 

Midori remained standing after they had disappeared, staring at the worn carpet of the empty hallway until its color blurred and her brown eyes brimmed with tears. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered, feeling beaten and cold as the tattered remnants of her cocoon proved insufficient to stop the slow bleeding of her heart.

Where in the hell did that little Aragami bugger go? Kusanagi silently scowled as he landed on top of a building in downtown Tokyo. His piercing eyes scanned the busy streets below, trying to find it, but it was nowhere to be seen. All the way from Izumo he had played tag with the lizard as it had dodged in and out of sight. It had made the most out of the dead, winter foliage, using it to cover its scurried movement, and Kusanagi hadn't wasted the effort of trying to keep it in visual range as he tracked it, knowing that its tiny size would have made such a task virtually impossible.

Instead he had relied on the Aragami's energy pattern, biding his time, not really wanting to catch it anyway, but instead waiting for it to lead him to its master. The only problem was, now that he was in Tokyo, about the only thing he could feel was the heavy, dark energy of the Tengugaki. It pounded around him like a jackhammer, drowning out the smaller pulse of the Aragami lizard as if it was nothing more than the subtle ticking of a clock.

Kusanagi clenched his fists and closed his eyes in frustration. _He had not come this far to fail, dammit! _Trying to relax, he willed his mind to find the Aragami's flow, concentrating on his own mitamas and the energy that was contained within them. After a few minutes his eyes flew open and he turned his head sharply and stared at a passing railway train. His cat-like eyes followed it as it moved into a tunnel, and then he leapt down off the building and headed towards the train tracks. 

How predictable that an Aragami would choose the darkest place it could find to hide, he thought, his lips twisting in bitter satisfaction.

Ducking inside the tunnel, Kusanagi began moving swiftly and silently forward, along the steep slope of the tracks, all of his senses alert as he stared intently ahead through the darkness. He had hoped that the farther down he traveled, the more protection the earth would offer him from the Tengugaki's energy, thus making it easier to follow the flow of Aragami energy. But much to his disappointment, that didn't happen. The Tengugaki's energy was just as strong here, if not stronger, and Kusanagi found the intensity extremely unnerving as he went deeper and deeper into the darkness. 

He turned his head, his eyes scanning the dark walls of the tunnel as he recalled that Zan Kazai had said there were nine Sentinel Tengugaki in Tokyo. He could detect no movement along the smooth tunnel walls, even though it felt like one was right on top of him. Despite the lack of movement, the dark draw of energy was chillingly close and he couldn't help but wonder if he would end up encountering one of the slimy bastards before he'd had a chance to catch up with the Aragami lizard.

And then his thoughts were shattered by an unexpected, shrill sound that brought him up short. It was the urgent squeal of brakes from a subway train. It was followed by an explosion of noise - the crunching of metal, a loud boom of collision and then, the hissing thunderous roar that Kusanagi recognized as a Tengugaki. Swearing violently, Kusanagi jolted forward. The Aragami lizard was forgotten for the moment, and his thoughts focused on the train full of people that the Tengugaki would use to fuel its mitama - unless he could get there before it had a chance to start harvesting human souls.

Flitting like a shadow through the darkness, the wail of human suffering mingled with the crackling and popping of what had to be the train on fire, painting a grim picture of what lay ahead, and Kusanagi's urgency increased. Five hundred yards in front of him lay a bend in the tracks and as he drew closer to it, he could see the faint, flickering orange glow against the tunnel wall; a warning sign of the tragedy that was waiting to greet him.

Just a little more, he thought, and tried to prepare himself for what he would see. Clenching his jaw tightly, he turned the corner and stopped abruptly. He was completely unprepared, despite his efforts to the contrary, to deal with the shock of what met his eyes. 

Several lifeless bodies were strewn about the tracks, bloody and eviscerated, the bleached color of their skin standing out in ghastly contrast to the crimson stains of torn flesh. But Kusanagi barely noticed them. His eyes, just like the eyes of all the terrified people huddled around the edges of the wall, were centered on the tracks where the Tengugaki raged, fighting with a lone figure with pale skin and long, flowing dark hair.

"Murakumo." Kusanagi hissed the name, his voice throbbing with hatred. 

His cat-like eyes narrowed to mere slits as he stared at his all too familiar enemy. He had fully expected to come across either Murakumo or Orochi sooner or later, knowing it was to one or the other that the Aragami lizard owed its allegiance. But not like this, he thought dazedly watching the two figures dance around the tracks as they lunged at one another. Never in a million years, would he have expected to find Murakumo in what looked like a heated battle to defend a train full of humans against the hell-born nightmare with the black mitama. It was like some sort of twisted dream.

"Just how much longer are you going to stand there gaping like a useless blade of grass, Kusanagi?" Murakumo ground out, letting Kusanagi know that he'd seen him as he dodged the long, deadly talons of the Tengugaki at the same time.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kusanagi demanded caustically finally snapping out of his surprised stupor.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you cretin?" Murakumo replied coldly. The effort of talking to Kusanagi affected his ability to parry the Tengugaki's swiping attack and this time when it lunged, its claws ripped into his shirt, the sharp, pointed talons scoring his side with several thin lines that welled with blood. "I'm trying to rid myself of this abominable eyesore. Even as imperfect as you are, that fact should be obviously clear!" The Tengugaki darted forward again, and Murakumo stopped speaking long enough to flit sideways and make a lunging counterattack, the glancing blow of his blade bouncing off the jagged blades along the Tengugaki's forearms. "- I would think that since it _ is_ the humans that this pile of refuse seems to prefer as food," Murakumo scowled furiously, "that you would be more than happy to help me exterminate it!" 

After a muttered oath, Kusanagi unsheathed his blades and flitted forward, viciously slashing at the Tengugaki. The creature was unable to parry both Murakumo and Kusanagi at the same time and Kusanagi's blow tore a long gash in its shoulder. Dark, foul-smelling blood oozed down its slimy skin and with a howl, it reared on its powerful hind legs. Sharp fangs shimmered with a coating of blood and long strings of saliva dripped down its chin as its cry reverberated off the walls. 

"Dammit," Kusanagi swore darkly when it turned and took off running in the darkness. Without pausing to look at Murakumo, he turned and began pursuing it.

Traveling as fast as he could, the wind whipped against his body, his clothing catching the gusts in a rustle of movement so it took a few moments before he realized that he wasn't alone in his pursuit. 

"Why didn't you kill it when you had the chance, you fool?" Murakumo's voice hissed with recrimination from beside him. 

Surprised, Kusanagi briefly turned his head to see the pale profile of Murakumo who was keeping pace with him, his cold grey eyes focused intently forward. _What in THE hell _!? Kusanagi wondered. Why was Murakumo helping him to chase down a Tengugaki? If before had seemed like a bizarre dream, then this went beyond even that. Kusanagi was having trouble comprehending what was happening and he stared blankly at Murakumo watching as the pale Aragami's well shaped lips pulled into the deep lines of a frown.

"It's too late now," he sullenly proclaimed. It's already fled underground." 

He abruptly pulled up ending the chase, but Kusanagi stubbornly continued onwards, not wanting to acknowledge that his hated enemy was right. Ahead of him lay only darkness, and after a few more seconds he reluctantly stopped too. He might not be able to finish this battle, he thought grimly, but there was another one waiting to be started. 

Right where he had left Murakumo standing. 

Spinning on his heel, he prepared to double back after Murakumo, but discovered he didn't have to when he found the arrogant Aragami lord standing only a few feet behind him, brooding emotions shadowing his eyes. He was staring silently at Kusanagi, his hands in his pockets.

Without a word, Kusanagi lunged at him and with seamless motion, Murakumo pulled his hands free, the sword in his right hand clanging loudly as he parried Kusanagi's sudden thrust. With his other hand he pushed roughly at Kusanagi's chest, causing him to stumble. By the time Kusanagi had recovered his balance, Murakumo had flitted out of reach and was once again standing in his silent, watchful pose.

"Where's your little spy, Murakumo?" Kusanagi jeered softly, standing with his legs braced apart in a crouch. "Did it get eaten by the Tengugaki? Is that why you were fighting back there? To avenge the death of your faithful servant?" The last words came out in a growl as Kusanagi sprang forward to attack.

Small sparks ignited in the darkness as their blades met and locked, the small orange embers quickly dying away to the hiss of Murakumo's voice, "The reasons why I fight are my own, as I believe you once said to me – and no – I sent Sekage back to the Kingdom of the Roots. Why let the Tengugaki slaughter both our races?"

Kusanagi continued to press his blade forward against his own, and with effort, Murakumo threw him off and darted out of reach.

"Why won't you fight me, dammit?" Kusanagi shouted in frustration, his face pulled into a feral growl as he glared at Murakumo. "You ran away from me in Takachiho as well. Are you afraid to lose?"

The brooding lines in Murakumo's face up until now had almost been as hostile as Kusanagi's, but his eyes widened incredulously at Kusanagi's words and he gave a bark of harsh laughter.

"Afraid?" he scoffed, "of losing!? To an imperfect fool like _you_?!" He waved his hand dismissively at such an idea. "The thought never even crossed my mind. – No, Kusanagi, the reason I choose not to fight you has nothing to do with fear – It is simply that I have come to realize that there are some things worth fighting for, and some things that are not."

There was a moment of silence while Kusanagi digested this piece of information and then he exclaimed caustically, "You expect me to believe that you aren't fighting for the Aragami race anymore?" Kusanagi lunged again, believing that Murakumo was toying with him. "Just how big a fool do - _you - think - I - am_!?" With every last word he struck a blow, the ringing of steel punctuating each syllable he uttered.

Murakumo deflected each one, but now his own temper was beginning to rise. Despite his parries, Kusanagi kept pressing towards him relentlessly, and Murakumo knew that if he slipped or let his guard down, for even a fraction of a second, Kusanagi would gain the upper hand. 

"_ENOUGH_!" Murakumo bellowed in rage. 

Drawing up his fist, he fired a bolt of energy at Kusanagi. Just as he'd anticipated, Kusanagi vaulted backwards to avoid the blast and Murakumo made his move, lowering his shoulder and rushing at him, hitting Kusanagi squarely in the stomach. Kusanagi's feet made a scraping noise as he was dragged backwards against the subway tracks until his heel caught against the edge of one and he went down hard with Murakumo squarely on top of him. Kusanagi arms shot up, his hands encircling his enemy's throat. But he couldn't maintain any kind of pressure against Murakumo's neck. His arms were shaking, struggling as Murakumo's strong fingers pulled at his own, threatening to rip Kusanagi's hands away completely. 

"There's nothing that I would enjoy more, than to give you the fight you are craving," Murakumo panted. He leaned heavily against Kusanagi's arms with the full weight of his body and Kusanagi felt his muscles further weakening. "- How regrettable that that's no longer an option - since I must now consider you an ally instead of an enemy." 

Kusanagi grunted in derision.

"Sleeping for three years has seriously impaired your reasoning if you think that I'm going to believe that the _King _of the Aragami," Kusanagi spat the detested words out, "considers me as an ally!"

"Why in god's name would I lie about such an unwanted turn of events?" Murakumo demanded, "and why would I bother saving a train full of your kind from one of those hell-born, abominations if that wasn't the case?" 

Kusanagi didn't have an answer for that one and Murakumo pressed harder, knowing he was close to overpowering his opponent. Kusanagi glared into the cool grey eyes above him, his teeth gritted, an agonizing howl rising in the back of his throat as his arms finally gave out and Murakumo pinned them to the ground. 

"Are you ready to concede?" Murakumo inquired challengingly.

"Don't count on it, you bastard!" Kusanagi hissed, lifting his knees and flipping Murakumo off of him. 

Kusanagi hastily scrambled to his feet but not before Murakumo had managed a lithe roll, recovering just as quickly. Brushing the dirt from his elbows, he shot an irritated look at Kusanagi, finally taking up a defensive stance instead of just standing there with his hands in his pockets.

Instinctively, Kusanagi wanted to jump at him again, but finally, his logic began to overtake his emotions and it made him pause. He studied Murakumo's stance, and he reflected on what he'd seen and what he knew, his mind coming to the same conclusion over and over. Murakumo's current behavior was nothing like the Murakumo of the past – saving humans, refusing to fight – that just wasn't the Murakumo Kusanagi was used to. So, did that mean that the Aragami lord was telling the truth? And if he was, what could have possibly caused such a radical change in him? 

Kusanagi's mind flitted to the iwatto in Takachiho where Murakumo had first appeared and he tried to imagine what had taken place there. It wasn't too hard to envision the battle between Murakumo and the Tengugaki – except for the part about Midori. Where exactly did she fit into all of this? - For it was patently obvious that she knew about Murakumo - she had tried to protect him. Of that Kusanagi was certain. Had she in some way effected a change in Murakumo?

"You haven't changed at all, Kusanagi – you're still the same irritating little bug you always were," Murakumo intoned nastily, breaking into Kusanagi's musings.

"And you're still an arrogant bastard," Kusanagi countered with a scowl, "even now when you claim to be my ally. The last time I checked, Hell had yet to freeze over, so that leaves me with only one question: why your sudden change of heart?" 

Heart…

Was that the answer? Kusanagi gave him a speculative look which Murakumo met with a blank stare. 

"Could it be that Midori Fujisawa has something to do with you changing your mind?" Kusanagi watched Murakumo closely as he framed the question and he was able to see a swift change in the Aragami's expression before the calm mask was once again in place. "She was there at the iwatto, the same day you were, even though she denies it. Are you going to deny it too?"

Murakumo shrugged his shoulders, "Why should I? She distracted the Tengugaki long enough for me to kill it."

"But that's not all – it can't be," Kusanagi interjected, Murakumo's impassive expression offering him no clues as he tried to fit the missing pieces together. "There was green blood inside the iwatto, which means that you were injured – Midori was missing for about a week," Kusanagi rapidly deduced, his eyes sliding pensively over Murakumo as if he were looking for signs of injuries or infirmities. "so, she must have been trying to help you, - you must have been pretty bad off – I mean, normally, with your regenerative capabilities, it shouldn't have taken that long – and to rely on a human, you must have been close to death – "

Murakumo's lips quirked in grim amusement and he snorted, "You have quite a vivid imagination." 

Kusanagi's eyes traveled back to Murakumo's face. "Tell me I'm wrong," he murmured, his brow soaring in challenge. 

Murakumo refrained from replying, his haughty expression sending the silent message that he wasn't going to help Kusanagi by explaining anything. But Kusanagi wasn't about to accept what Murakumo was telling him unless there was a damned good explanation – and so far, the only one Kusanagi had come up with was feeble at best. 

"Just because she helped you - that doesn't justify your sudden acceptance in the existence of the human race and it sure as hell doesn't explain why you would try to save a train full of humans, either..."

"With that fertile imagination of yours, I'm surprised that you didn't make the most obvious connection, Kusanagi," Murakumo replied coolly, his hands finally going back in his pockets as he realized that Kusanagi was refraining from further attack for the time being. "- the one connection that closes the gap between humans and Aragami and is the main reason for my willingness to change the path of my goal for the Aragami Kingdom."

"And what might that be, exactly?" Kusanagi inquired dubiously.

"My son," Murakumo announced, a cold smile carving into his arrogant expression as he saw the shock register on Kusanagi's face. "Yes, Kusanagi, the child that your Kushinada has is my son. I'm very surprised that you didn't make that connection earlier – how else did you think that I was able to awaken?"

"Noa? Is… _your _son?!?" Kusanagi muttered under his breath, utterly dumbstruck. He struggled with the concept of Murakumo lowering himself enough to conceive a child with a human, and concluded that the Aragami lord must have been quite desperate.

A brief expression of distaste flickered over Murakumo's face at hearing the name of his son for the first time. _Noa_? His sense of pride chafed at the soft sounding name. _Why couldn't Hikaru have chosen a stronger name for him, like Shun, or Ryu_? 

"Your son?" Kusanagi repeated incredulously, still unable to resolve the idea in his mind.

'Yes. My son," Murakumo reiterated coldly. "It was after careful consideration, that I was inclined to agree with Lord Susano-oh. My son is indeed the key to the survival of the Aragami kingdom."

Kusanagi started at the mention of Lord Susano-oh, his mind working rapidly. After everything that had happened, he couldn't believe that Susano-oh would champion the Aragami race over the humans – he had taken too much care with the life of the Kushinada for that to be the case. No. It was more likely that he was trying to bring about a peaceful co-existence between the two races. Noa was a hybrid, just like Kusanagi and just exactly the type of peacemaker that the Storm God would rely on for that to happen. Kusanagi looked at Murakumo again, as if seeing him for the first time. He was beginning to believe that the Aragami lord was telling the truth, but still…

"If you have changed, then why was Midori afraid to tell anyone about your existence?" Kusanagi asked curiously.

Murakumo stared down his nose a Kusanagi and replied haughtily, "What passed between that human girl and myself is none of your concern."

Kusanagi blinked and a slow smile slid across his face.

"So _that's_ how it is," he murmured knowingly.

Murakumo ground his teeth in irritation, and replied irritably, "What are you insinuating?"

"I'm not insinuating anything – just making a surprising observation," Kusanagi murmured, the little smile curving the corners of his mouth at Murakumo's reaction taking on a smug twist. "Getting close enough to a human to sire a child has really changed your… tastes, hasn't it?"

The color of rage suffused Murakumo's face and for the first time since their meeting, he took an offensive stance, stepping aggressively towards Kusanagi. Just because Midori had shown that she cared for Murakumo did not mean that he felt the same, he muttered furiously to himself.

"The hell you say!" he hissed through clenched teeth breaking off as he heard the gruff accents of the leader of the TAC from the darkness behind him. 

Abruptly he turned and looked over his shoulder. A small contingent of the TAC was heading towards him and Kusanagi, their way lit by the beams from several flashlights and their handguns held at the ready.

"Kusanagi!" Mr. Kunikida called urgently, his voice sounding hollow as it bounced off the tunnel walls. 

Murakumo turned again, his cold, grey eyes locking with Kusanagi's cat-like ones. 

"It seems our little chat is at an end," he noted frigidly.

"Why don't you stay, Murakumo, and greet your new comrades," Kusanagi couldn't help but suggest in a goading way. 

"I doubt they would believe me any more than you have, so I will leave it for now," Murakumo replied tonelessly, adding, "perhaps in time you will see the truth in what I have told you."

"Oh, I see it now, it's just that I don't like you," Kusanagi contradicted.

"The feeling is mutual, I can assure you" Murakumo replied caustically and then with less emotion, "- after all of this is over, Kusanagi, my decision regarding the humans will remain the same. Nonetheless, my son belongs with me and you can tell the Kushinada that I will be coming for him." 

Kusanagi didn't bother replying as, with a curt nod, Murakumo turned and in a flicker of swift movement he was gone.

Mr. Kunikida paused as Murakumo zipped past him before he and his group continued on to where Kusanagi stood waiting for him.

"What the hell happened here?" He began without preamble, studying the pensive look on Kusanagi's face.

"It seems," Kusanagi slowly replied, "that we have an unexpected ally."

"Murakumo!?" Kunikida demanded amidst the murmured voices of the other team members who were expressing their disbelief as well.

"Murakumo," Kusanagi verified, "Lord of the Aragami and father of Noa."

"You don't believe him, do you," Kunikida asked, his shocked brown eyes locking with Kusanagi's sharp, cat-like ones. 

"Yes," Kusanagi responded slowly, almost reluctantly. He stared off into the dark after the Aragami lord, his eyes finally coming back to Kunikida as he affirmed with certainty, "strangely enough, I do."


	38. 37: An Aura of Betrayal

Attention LukyIrish12/LuckyIrish12 - (You know who you are =) ) I have tried several times to respond to your desperate emails, but they all bounced back to me. Rather than have you think I was ignoring you, I chose the only other way of addressing your emails, which is to stick this note at the top of my chapter. Please send me your valid email address so that I may respond to some of the issues you mentioned in your emails.

Dreamer Awakened

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Murakumo stood motionless in the gloom, staring at the sliding glass door in front of him. The curtains were drawn, but he could tell no one was home because of the darkened seam formed by the gap between the curtains and the glass. It was late. Well past midnight. _So where was she?_ He gritted his teeth in irritation at the aimless thought. What did it matter where she was? He had only come here to get a shirt anyway since the one he was wearing was all bloodied and torn from his fight with the Tengugaki. 

Anyway, wasn't it better that she NOT be here? he muttered abrasively to himself. That way, he could go in, get what he needed and leave without having to go through another uncomfortable scene with her. He didn't have time for her, and having to brush her aside would mean witnessing that same, forlorn look in her eyes. He definitely didn't want to go through that again.

Quick and painless, he rationalized. It was the best way. 

And yet, he remained standing there, gazing at the door without going inside, that plaguing question of where she could be resolving any will he had to act.

Humans were so frail, he brooded. When he had left her, the wound on her arm had reopened and she'd been bleeding again. It had been a nasty cut to begin with. Perhaps it had become inflamed and she'd needed to seek medical attention for it. That would explain why she wasn't here now. It seemed a logical and satisfactory explanation. But instead of satisfying him, it only served to feed the rising restlessness he felt. Shifting his gaze, his eyes flickered over the glass, absentmindedly focusing on the reflection of his tall frame outlined by the glints of light from other windows opposite Midori's apartment building. 

To make sure that she was safe, perhaps he should wait just a little longer for her – 

Such concern for her – the fact that it drove his thoughts angered him and his lip curled in disdain.

"I'm not waiting for her dammit!" he hissed aloud, squashing the wayward inner voice tempting him to stay. 

He forced himself into motion then, reaching for the door to see if it was locked. It wasn't and he slid it back noiselessly. With the back of his hand, Murakumo negligently pushed the curtain aside and entered. Once across the threshold he stopped, diverted from searching for a clean shirt as he looked around with interest at the place that Midori called home.

It was small, with what appeared to be only three main rooms: the kitchen the living room and the bedroom. It was adequately furnished with furniture that wasn't new, but well cared for, and everything appeared spotless. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. Not even on the neatly arranged books that lined the shelves along her living room wall. 

Slowly, Murakumo circled the room, taking an interest in everything he came across. What was it, he idly wondered as he pulled a book from the shelf, that he found so fascinating about her. He smoothed the cover of the book he held as if he expected to glean the knowledge he was seeking from it. But after looking closer at the title, Molecular Biology: A Practical Guide to Genes and Proteins; his lips quirked into an odd smile. He doubted he would find the answers he was looking for there. 

Putting the book back, he continued on, making a complete circuit of the room, stopping in front of the raised counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. There were a few pictures poised here, a phone and a pad of paper with a pen on top of it. Moving the pen aside, he picked up the pad and squinted through the darkness to see what was written on it. 

Nothing fancy. Simply a grocery list. On the surface it didn't tell him much – except that she appeared to be out of bonito flakes and daikon radishes. But if he discarded the plainness of the message and looked at its structure and form, he could see quite a bit more. Her handwriting was small and neat, each character created with painstaking precision. There was a graceful symmetry in the slope of each line and the sweep of every curve that reminded him very much of Midori herself. Putting the pad of paper back, he took up one of the photos next to it and looked at it, a scowl turning down the corners of his mouth. 

He recognized the Kushinada standing with her arm linked through Midori's in the foreground. But the figure in the background is what had brought on his scowl. It was that imperfect fool, Kusanagi. Quickly he returned the picture to its place, spinning on his heel and moving away to escape the mocking memory of Kusanagi's words. Despite his decision to cooperate with the humans, Murakumo would've loved to have knocked a few of Kusanagi's teeth out after he'd insinuated that Murakumo was developing a taste for human companionship. Murakumo stopped in the middle of the room and again ground his teeth just remembering it. 

That fool's assumptions shouldn't bother him, but they did. Perhaps it was because, deep down he sensed a grain of truth in them that he was loath to admit. Jerking his head around, Murakumo was abruptly drawn from his disturbing thoughts by a scraping sound. Unclenching his jaw, his eyes flew to the door as he recognized the sound as that of a key being inserted into a lock. 

So, Midori had finally come home. 

Much of the restlessness that had held him captive since he'd arrived began to dissipate, and he battled a rising impulse that bid him to stay where he was until he saw her walk through the door. But his pride and the memory of Kusanagi's taunting words proved a stronger motivation and they nudged him into fleeing before he had a chance to see her. Flitting across the room, he swished past the curtains, bolting through the sliding glass door just as the door handle began to turn. 

Murakumo barely had a chance to slide the door shut behind him before the light inside her apartment came on. Crouching low, a small trickle of sweat inched its way down his temples and he clenched his hands, trying to calm the chaos simmering inside him. He'd convinced himself to come here with the excuse of having a clean change of clothes. But now that he was here, it was not a shirt that he wanted. Momentarily closing his eyes, his hands crept over his face, his fingers lacing through his hair and he pulled in frustration. He felt as if some unseen force was manipulating him, and he couldn't seem to keep his thoughts in order or his emotions under control. 

Resisting the urge to open the door and go back inside, he rose to his feet, and moved away from the door, sliding down into a sitting position against the wall. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned his head back and waited, trying not to think of what Midori might be doing on the other side of the wall. Carefully keeping his mind blank, he stared dully up at the blinking beacon atop one of the endless skyscrapers, his grey eyes flickering over to the door, checking every so often to see if the sliver of light spilling across the ground from inside was gone. After an hour or so, it went out. But still he remained where he was for a few minutes more, just to make sure that Midori was sleeping safely.

Finally rising to his feet, he stole softly over to the door, hesitating a fraction before he slid it back, more cautious in his movements this time. Stepping over the threshold, he once again paused, but this time, it was to listen. Silence. Moving stealthily through the darkness, he approached Midori's bedroom, his ears pricked to hear the slightest of noises. 

She was under the blankets, turned away from him, and before he could think better of it, he moved to look at her. He wanted to wrap his fingers around her shoulder and shake her awake and found the temptation almost too hard to resist, so he turned away. If he touched her, he thought, the chaos inside would explode. He must remember that his goal was to destroy the Tengugaki and if he gave into the fascination he had with her it would only dim his focus. He needed to keep his distance from her for the time being, until he could learn more about the weaknesses of his enemy. 

Prowling around her room, he looked for where she might have put his shirts, hoping that she had brought them to Tokyo with her. He was relieved to find them in her closet, hanging neatly next to her own things. Not bothering to make a conscious choice, he grabbed the first one he laid his hand on, taking the coat hanger as well. Considering how fastidious she was, if he took the shirt and not the hanger, she would probably notice right away. He rearranged the other shirts so that there was less of a gap where it had been and then turned and left the room, making a mental note to purchase some things for himself. 

If he had to keep coming back here every time he destroyed an article of clothing, he would go through the things Midori had purchased for him in very short order, and she would know that he'd been here. She would also realize he was avoiding her. In his mind's eye, Murakumo recalled her expression as he'd left her standing alone in Takachiho. Her feelings of pain had been an almost tangible thing and he didn't want it to happen again. He didn't want to hurt her. 

Moving quickly through her apartment, he removed his torn shirt as he went and slid the new one on, leaving the same way he came. Jumping over the rail of her balcony, he flitted down into the alley, discarding his old shirt in a garbage can before turning to walk up the grimy alleyway. Forcing his thoughts away from the small apartment twenty stories up, he settled his attention on searching for more of the Tengugaki. He couldn't sense them, but if they were all as craven as the one he had seen in the subway tunnel, then he estimated that they preferred to attack where there was the least chance of retaliation. That meant patrolling areas where people went, but that were still isolated: wooded pathways of parks, secluded pedestrian tunnels and maybe even alleyways like the one he was currently in. 

For now, he thought, he would start with the parks. Sparing one last thought for the girl twenty stories above him, he turned the corner of the building and then firmly put all thoughts of her aside. Coming out onto the main walkway, his face fell into its arrogant, impassive mask and his mind became cold and calculating. Turning his feet in the direction of Susano-oh Memorial Park, he began the serious task of hunting Tengugaki

Kusanagi turned the bathroom light out and strode towards Momiji's bedroom. He'd peeped on her when he had first come home, before getting a shower to clear away the grime he'd managed to encrust his clothes with, and she'd been sleeping. She still was, stretched out on her side in her bathrobe, her hair, neatly braided, and her left arm protectively cradling Noa. Noa had been asleep too when he had first checked on them, but now the baby was beginning to stir. 

Kusanagi's eyes trailed away from Momiji and he studied the baby who was starting to make fitful grunting noises, his tiny fist waving. He was going to wake Momiji up any minute now. Kusanagi's eyes flickered critically over the faint bluish circles of fatigue beneath her eyes. She really needed her sleep he thought resolutely. Breathing in a soft sigh, Kusanagi carefully leaned over, removing Momiji's arms from around the infant, and scooped the baby up.

Holding him in the crook of his arm, Kusanagi climbed onto the bed, taking up the space next to Momiji where they baby had been and positioned a pillow between his back and the headboard.

Looking down at the now pacified infant Kusanagi softly complained, "Who gave you permission to sleep on my side of the bed, you little green bean?" Noa waved a tiny, demanding fist at him and Kusanagi's lips quirked into a sardonic smile. "Arrogant just like you're father, I see," he noted wryly. "Just be glad the bed hog didn't boot you off the bed like she did me –" 

He tilted his head in Momiji's direction but broke off what he was saying when he heard her mumble sleepily. "You must have been dreaming, Kusanagi. I would never boot you off the bed."

Kusanagi turned his head and smiled down at her. She still had her eyes closed, her cheek nestled deeply into her pillow, but her lips were curved into a smile as she reached out, feeling for his leg to give it a weak and sleepy thwap. He chuckled and leaned over. Hooking his index finger around her braid he tugged on it lightly as he placed a feather soft kiss against the curve of her cheek.

As he sat back up, Momiji wiggled towards him, wanting to get closer and she heard him chuckle again.

"See," he teased, "you're not even sleeping now, and you've already set in with your wily moves to push me off the mattress so you can have the whole thing to yourself."

"No," Momiji refuted with a sigh, reaching out to drape her arm around his waist, her eyes still closed, "you're safe as long as you have Noa. No booting off the bed while you're holding a baby."

Kusanagi looked down at the bundle in his arms. "Did you hear that? Seems you're my lucky talisman." Momiji heard the light note in his voice. "I guess I'll have to bring you to bed with me from now on so I'll be safe."

A moment of companionable silence stretched between them, and then the atmosphere subtly changed when Momiji quietly commented, "I called Midori while you were gone." 

"And what did she tell you?" Kusanagi asked just as quietly, his jocular demeanor now serious. He already knew some of what Momiji was going to tell him. But he was curious to see if she had been able to learn more about what had passed between Midori and Murakumo than Kusanagi had.

"It was definitely Murakumo at the iwatto," Momiji sighed, opening her eyes and staring at Kusanagi's nicely shaped leg. "She did her best to deny it, but I knew it was him. She spent an entire week nursing him, Kusanagi." Her voice was tinged with apprehension. "I encouraged her to tell Mr. Kunikida about it, but she refused." Momiji sighed again, the weight of her worry carried in its sound. "I think she's in love with him - as impossible as that seems to me. I guess my only option now is to tell Mr. Kunikida myself, but – I'd give anything not to have to do that."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about telling Kunikida, Momiji," Kusanagi replied impassively, "He already knows. He came across Murakumo and me in the subway tunnels earlier today."

Momiji's eyes widened and she jolted to a sitting position. "You confronted Murakumo?" she cried, leaning towards him. "What happened?" Did you fight him? Who won?" 

With every question, she leaned ever closer to him and now she was in danger of toppling onto him. Kusanagi was forced to put his hand out to steady her, but found he had to push harder than he'd expected when she leaned forward again. Her eyes widened in horror and shock as she got a good look at his face, and Kusanagi stifled a grimace. 

He watched as she put her hands to her mouth, and she cried out in horrified accents. "_OH MY GOD_! What!?..." she gulped, "- What happened to your eye!?"

Kusanagi let go of her, as she subsided back onto her heels and sat staring at his left eye. Her reaction wasn't surprising. Actually, when he'd gotten home and taken a good look at it for the first time, he'd reacted in much the same way – but for a completely different reason. His eye had been sore as hell, so he'd known it was bound to be discolored. But he'd been hoping that he would be able to hide the blow he'd taken to the face so he wouldn't have to explain to her the details on how he'd received it. 

He'd immediately realized though, as he stood inspecting the damage in the bathroom mirror, that there was no way of hiding it. The lid was all puffy and swollen and the skin around it was bright green and yellow: two colors that distinctly refused to blend in with the copper tint of his skin. Even if he'd somehow managed to hide the color of it, there was no way to hide how swollen it had become.

"I hope to god you pounded Murakumo senseless for that!" Momiji cried.

Kusanagi grunted non-committally and then replied wryly, "Murakumo didn't do this, Momiji. In fact, Murakumo refused to fight me at all."

Momiji blinked owlishly at him, unsure that she had heard him correctly. 

"He… refused to fight you?" she repeated uncertainly, wondering if perhaps Murakumo had hit Kusanagi so hard that he couldn't recall it happening.

"That's right," Kusanagi replied mildly, watching the myriad of changing expressions on her face. 

"You're absolutely certain he didn't hit you?" Momiji fingered her braid, curling the loose strands of the tail round and round her finger as she waited for Kusanagi's answer. 

"I'm one hundred percent certain," he replied unwaveringly.

Momiji was completely perplexed then. _Why Murakumo would behave so; well, un-Murakumo-like_? she wondered. "Was he still wounded?" she mused aloud, "Could that have been the reason why he refused to fight you?"

Kusanagi shook his head. 

"No, he's definitely recovered all of his strength," he replied a sullen note creeping into his voice as he recalled how Murakumo had easily pinned him to the ground. "He's as strong as he ever was, but – he just… refused to fight. He claims he is now our ally."

There was complete silence in the room as Momiji digested this, having as much trouble as Kusanagi had first had in believing it.

"What on earth would make him say that?" she finally muttered, utterly baffled until a sudden thought occurred to her. "Do you think it's because of Midori? Because he has feelings for her? "

"That would definitely explain a lot, and it's not out of the realm of possibilities. Especially since she's in love with him," Kusanagi responded. "But even if he did care for her, I don't think he would do it just for her – in fact, I know he didn't do it just for her - although, she has to factor in his decision somewhere. But really, I think his biggest reason is because of Noa."

"- You mean Noa is his son?" Momiji asked after making the connection. 

Kusanagi nodded. Her surprise was much less dramatic over the origins of the babies birth than it had been over the fact that Murakumo had refused to fight. Kusanagi watched her gaze automatically pivot to the docile infant lying in against his chest.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" she concluded after a moment or two. "It would explain how Murakumo was able to awaken – he and Noa are of the same blood, so when Noa was born, it would have triggered Murakumo's rebirth. - But Murakumo not wanting to fight." Momiji shook her head. "I still can't believe he would give up his plans for an Aragami kingdom." 

"When I came across him in the subway," Kusanagi said after a moment of introspection, "he was fighting against a Tengugaki, trying to save a trainload of passengers. To put himself in that much danger would be folly, unless he was sincere about his intentions. As for his kingdom - I don't think he's given up his dream of that, Momiji. The only thing that has changed is the way in which he will achieve it. 

"It seems that Susan-oh has convinced him that Noa is the key to the Aragami kingdom that he wants." Kusanagi looked down at the baby, noting the blue souls that stood out so prominently on his skin. "Even though he is part human, this little one bears the souls of an Aragami like his father. And I suppose, when he's older, his own children will also have Aragami souls. The two races will mingle together in his line; neither one having dominion over the other." Kusanagi continued to stare at the mitamas, a burgeoning dread filling his chest when he thought about Susano-oh's plan for the two races. 

"I wonder if our children will be like this too," he pondered in a wooden voice, and immediately wished he could bite his own tongue off at the look of dismay that flashed across Momiji's face before she managed to hide it. 

That Kusanagi might not wish to have children because of the possibility that they would have mitamas had never occurred to her before, and she gave him a searching look, hoping that that wasn't the case. Even knowing that they could be born with mitamas didn't affect Momiji's desire to have children. She still wanted them because, with or without mitamas, they would be _his _children. 

Unable to discern from his tight expression what he was thinking, Momiji reached out and took Noa from him, cradling the infant against her. Smiling down at the baby, she stroked the soft down on his head for a moment before her earnest green eyes returned to Kusanagi.

"Would that really be such a bad thing?" Momiji wanted to know softly, "If they were to have mitamas?"

Kusanagi dropped his brooding gaze away from her. He focused on the tiny baby nestled against her and didn't reply. How could he? He thought helplessly, without making it sound like he would despise any child born to them who carried mitamas?

"You know, Kusanagi," Momiji began meditatively, watching Noa's eyelids begin to droop as she continued to soothingly stroke the soft strands of his hair, "the morning after Noa's birth and the battle between Kaede and Tamanasu, my mother met me here at the house. She and grandmother came, I think, because they sensed something terrible about to happen." Momiji bowed her head and murmured, shamefaced, "I couldn't tell her, you know. I couldn't summon the strength to tell her that her eldest daughter had died in the early hours of the morning trying to protect me. And when I finally did tell her, I was helpless to stop the suffering I knew I was inflicting upon her. I watched her spirit crumble right before my eyes." Momiji closed her eyes a brief moment, trying to regain her wavering composure that was threatened by her painful recollections. Taking a deep breath she murmured, "I would have given anything to have spared my mother that grief, but I think now, the only real comfort that she could have had at that moment would have been in knowing that Kaede had been her only daughter." 

Momiji saw Kusanagi's startled expression and watched his eyes darken in dismay at Momiji's disturbing admissions.

"It's true," she murmured seeing that he was about to deny what she'd said. "The morning that I returned home from the iwatto to find her and grandmother here, she told me she'd she wished I'd never been born to her." Kusanagi looked staggered by her words, and Momiji knew that he didn't yet understand what her mother had meant. "She didn't say it to be cruel, Kusanagi. She simply said it because she was afraid." Kusanagi looked nonplussed and so Momiji explained softly, "On that morning, I think that even though I didn't tell her about Kaede, she somehow sensed a fear she'd carried with her for many years had finally come to pass, a fear I confirmed for her a day later by telling her about Kaede's death. – It was hard to watch her openly grieve. There was such pain in her eyes," Momiji recalled sadly, and then added, "But, you know, Kusanagi, even though it was more obvious than before, I think Mom started grieving long before she ever lost Kaede; probably even before Kaede and I were even born. The roots of her grief were most likely conceived when she learned that she was going to have a baby, for she knew what that meant." 

Momiji paused for a moment, her eyes distant and thoughtful and Kusanagi remained silent, just watching her as she continued to absently soothe Noa to sleep. 

"- Being the Kushinada – it's not something that a mother wants to pass on to her daughter." Momiji's eyes wandered back to Kusanagi to see if he discerned what she was trying to say. His expression was fathomless, but he remained silent and serious, listening intently to her, and so she continued. "It's every mother's instinct to want to protect her child because she loves her; and yet for the Kushinada, from the moment her daughter takes her first breath, that right is taken away. Her baby becomes the tool that she once was, and the roots of fear begin grow, and she worries that the day of fate which has passed her by, will dawn in her daughter's lifetime - and there will be nothing that she can do to shield her precious child from it." Momiji stopped for a moment, her gaze going down to the small bundle she held in her arms. "I can understand why my mother said that she wished that I had not been born to her," she murmured with quiet understanding, an affectionate smile for the baby she held curving her lips. "It's because she loves me so much that she does not wish me to have to bear the burden of the Kushinada." 

Her smile faded and she looked up at Kusanagi, her eyes darkened by the shadows that had been carried by her line for far too long. 

"It will be the same for me too," she predicted heavily. "I do not wish to pass on the duties of the Kushinada to my daughter. I do not want her to be used as a tool whose only purpose is to be destroyed and to destroy others. I cannot change the fact that she will become the Kushinada. –" Momiji stated, aggrieved. "But, if my daughter – no," she shook her head, "if _our _daughter were born with Aragami souls – then she couldn't be used as a tool. - I would be able to live happily, knowing that the day will NEVER come that her blood would be spilled on an altar of sacrifice," and then her eyes took on a flash of fire as she declared vehemently. "And ff Aragami souls would ensure that that never happens, then, I pray to god that she IS born with them. Don't you see, Kusanagi? Having those souls would be a blessing for her; not a curse!"

The truths that Momiji had revealed held Kusanagi's tongue between his teeth for a moment and he could only sit and stare at her. Having said everything she'd she wanted to say, Momiji subsided into silence. Her green eyes stared steadily at him while the baby slept on, nestled peacefully in her arms and the bittersweet image of them together struck a chord somewhere deep inside of him. 

Suddenly he felt as if he was gazing into the not so distant future and he was seeing Momiji with their baby; a baby with Aragami souls, souls that brought hope for the child instead of oppression. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, he looked away. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he silently moved to the window to stare blindly out into the darkness.

"You're truly amazing," he whispered humbly without looking at her. "If someone had told me that I would one day consider having a mitama a fortunate thing, I would have laughed in their face. But you –" he turned to look at her, not bothering to hide his emotions shimmering brightly in his eyes. "I truly think you could make me believe anything," he confessed.

Momiji didn't know what to say, feeling overawed by his words. Kusanagi crossed back over to where she was sitting with her knees tucked beneath her on the bed. Putting his right palm against the mattress, he leaned forward and cupped her cheek, his eyes traveling across her features as he softly said, "I imagine that our daughter will look just like her mother; which means I will have my work cut out keeping all the boys away from her. I can tell you that I don't look forward to that," he murmured lightly and then added more seriously, "– but if she has the same wisdom that her mother does; we will indeed be truly blessed."

"And if she is born with these?" Momiji asked in a hesitant voice, her hand touching his shirt, tracing the outline of one of the blue beads embedded in his chest. 

Kusanagi caught Momiji's hand, his intense gaze catching and holding hers.

"It's better that she is born with them," he acquiesced with sincere conviction. "Our daughter should have the right to shape her own future without being used as a pawn in a war of races." 

Momiji gave him a radiant smile, and he smiled back, grimacing a little as it crinkled the tender corner of his battered eye. Kusanagi immediately straightened up, not wanting Momiji to notice his reaction. Although he hadn't meant it as one, their conversation about mitamas had served as a diversion, neatly sidetracking the issue of his eye. If he was lucky, he might be able pass the remainder of the night without having to tell her how it had gotten damaged and then by the time the sun rose, his eye would be completely back to normal; thus, furthering his chances of successfully evading the issue. That was if he was lucky; which, it appeared he was not. He realized with a sinking feeling that Momiji had indeed observed his discomfort. 

"Let me get you some ice for your eye," she said, scooting towards the edge of the mattress so she could stand up. "It looks really bad."

"No, it's fine, really," he told her quickly, waving away her concern. 

Momiji laid the now sleeping baby in his crib before she answered, "No it's not. It's all bruised and swollen. Ice will help to bring down the inflammation," she informed him as she sailed through the doorway before he could offer any more protest.

While she was gone, Kusanagi had a quick debate with himself. _What the hell was he going to tell her_? he wondered uneasily. He could tell her that he'd fought the Tengugaki, which he had, while conveniently omitting the fact that it hadn't hit him in the eye. His omission would spare her a lot of discomfort for the time being, but in the end, it would most likely backfire. Once they returned to Tokyo someone was bound to say something. Then, not only would she hear the whole tale and be unprepared for it, but she would also realize that he'd lied to her. 

And Kusanagi had been with Momiji long enough to know that it wouldn't matter to her that his lie had been told to try and spare her feelings. What would matter the most to her was knowing that he'd failed to be honest with her. 

"No lies then," he murmured to himself with a heavy sigh. 

When she came back, Kusanagi was sitting resolutely on the side of the bed waiting for her. He eyed the small bag of ice she was carrying, heartily wishing that it _had _been the Tengugaki that had punched him. Momiji held the ice out to him and he took it from her with a muttered thanks. Tilting his head back, he gently placed it against his eye and waited for the questions to start.

"Kusanagi," Momiji began, watching his face tighten as the cold bag touched his skin. "if Murakumo didn't give you the black eye, then how did you get it?" 

Momiji had expected the uncomfortable look to dissipate after he got used to the feel of the cold, but it didn't. It remained steadfastly in place and if anything intensified with her question. 

Kusanagi's mouth hardened into a sour line. "That would be because of Sakura," he mumbled.

Somberly eyeing Momiji's gaping expression, he removed the bad from his eye and rose from the bed. Prowling over to the window, he pushed the curtains aside and made a semblance of peering out into the darkness. But what he was really doing was wishing that he could avoid this entire discussion altogether. 

"Sakura hit you?" Momiji asked incredulously from behind him.

"No, not exactly," he hedged, a thread of hostility running through his voice as he added, "But she definitely instigated it." 

Kusanagi grimaced. He hadn't meant it to sound so aggressive. Catching his reflection in the windowpane, he forced his features into a composed expression before turning back around to face Momiji. Propping his hip on the windowsill, he crossed his arms, the ice bag still clutched between his fingers. 

"Sakura _told _someone to hit you?" Momiji's eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs. She knew that Sakura could be catty at times, but that seemed a little drastic - even for Sakura. 

"That's what it amounts to, basically… although, if you had been there, it might not have seemed that way." Kusanagi shifted, having trouble maintaining his impassive expression. To hide it, he repositioned the bag over his eye so that it covered half of his face. 

Momiji watched him, getting the distinct impression that he was avoiding her gaze, and a vague feeling of apprehension began to wrap itself around her midsection. 

"How would it have seemed if I had been there?" she asked warily.

Kusanagi shrugged, his gaze somewhere down around her knees. "I dunno," he mumbled vaguely in reply, "It's not that important really."

"Oh, but I think it is," Momiji disagreed moving to stand right in front of him so he had to look at her. "Anything that results in you having a black eye cannot be considered unimportant. Did you get into an argument with Sakura? Is that what happened?"

"No." His response was distance as was his countenance.

"Did you insult her?" Momiji continued relentlessly.

"No," he repeated, a slight frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

"Then how is she responsible for your black eye?" Momiji asked, rapidly becoming exasperated with Kusanagi's laconic replies.

"She just is," he maintained with stubborn reticence.

Momiji's mouth tightened into a thin line and she spun on her heel and stalked away from him, going around the bed to where the phone was.

"What are you doing?" Kusanagi asked, watching as she picked it up.

"I'm going to call Kome," Momiji replied haughtily, her nose going into the air as she placed the receiver against her ear. "If Sakura was in the tunnels, then I'm sure that Kome was too. I'll just call her and ask – _ gah_!" Momiji broke off, making a frustrated noise as she realized that the phone was still unplugged from the night before. 

Plunking it back onto its cradle, she directed a fulminating glance at Kusanagi and headed determinedly for the door. "I'll just use the one in the living room instead," she muttered, but was brought up short as Kusanagi sprinted forward and impeded her progress.

"Isn't it a bit late to make a social call?" He asked her in a smooth voice, placing his considerable bulk squarely in the middle of the doorway.

"This isn't a social call," Momiji retorted, crossing her arms as she stared accusingly up at him. "I'm sure Kome will understand my concerns and relate to me what happened. - Since it seems your so determined to keep it a secret." 

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, Princess," Kusanagi replied with a harried expression, "it's just that once I tell you, I have a feeling that you'll wish I hadn't."

"How could you possibly know that?" she fumed, "I'm not the type of girl who buries her head in the sand, Kusanagi. And besides that, I hate it when you keep things from me!"

Kusanagi gave her a knowing look after which he threw up his hands and exclaimed, "All right, fine! I'll tell you. - But don't say I didn't warn you!" 

Stretching out his hands, he wrapped his fingers around the soft terrycloth of her robe. The ice bag made a soft, squishy noise as it hit her sleeve and he began pedaling her backwards toward the bed. 

"I think you'll want to be sitting down for this," he muttered, pushing her down until she was perched against the edge of the mattress. Bag still in hand, he crossed his arms and stood silently in front of her, giving her a seething look before he began his explanation. Finally, after a long pause in which Momiji desperately fought the impatient urge to prod him, he began. 

"It happened after Murakumo left," he said. "I had just finished giving Kunikida a status report on the situation with Murakumo, and we - meaning myself along with the other TAC members - headed up the tunnel towards the train wreckage to help with the clean up and first aid there. Kunikida was in front with Ryoko; then it was Kome and Yaegashi, and then me, Sugishita and Sakura." 

Kusanagi heaved a heavy sigh at this point, his gaze flickering watchfully across her face as he admitted, "In all honestly, Sakura probably thought that she was safe in saying the things she did; because otherwise, I doubt she would have said them –"

"What did she say?" Momiji asked when Kusanagi stopped abruptly, the suspense beginning to wear thin.

Kusanagi mentally cringed, recalling with appalling clarity Sakura's words.

"Your aura has radically changed, Carrot Boy." She'd observed in a low tone_, "I've never seen it like this before. It's so damned bright! And your energies are so far off the charts, I'm surprised you haven't burst into flame! "_

Kusanagi had ignored her comments, stonily staring ahead into the darkness along the tunnel. But in retrospect, he should have trussed her up and tossed her in a ditch somewhere along the track to avoid what came out of her mouth next.

"_– if I didn't know any better, I would say all the signs point to the fact that you've gotten laid in the last twenty four hours! I take it congratulations are in order to you and Momiji? Way to go,"_ she'd grinned slyly, adding as she'd nudged him in the ribs, "_I hope she was worth the wait_." 

She'd taken pains to keep her voice down, but she might as well have shouted it for the galvanizing effect it had had. 

"Sakura -" Kusanagi began, proceeding with painstaking slowness. He tried to discern the best way to soften what the brassy psychic had actually said, but then realized with chagrin, it was almost impossible to render her blatant sexual inquiry innocuous. 

Clearing his throat, he did the best he could by saying, "- Sakura made a comment about a change she'd noticed in my aura." Attempting to keep his expression blank and his tone as even as possible, he continued to watch Momiji's expression for any signs of danger as he muttered, "Because she'd noticed these… changes… … She wanted to know if they were, ah, the direct result of, ah, my having… slept with you."

Momiji tensed, disliking very much where this conversation was headed. She could now see why Kusanagi had been reluctant to talk to her about this. The grimness of his eyes told her that there was worse yet to come.

"W - what did you tell her?" she stuttered, unable to keep the tremor of foreboding from her voice.

"I didn't tell her anything," Kusanagi replied flatly, "although if I'd had the chance, I probably would have told her to go to hell. But I didn't even get to do that."

"Why is that?" Momiji asked.

"Because Kunikida has exceptionally good hearing for an old man, that's why," Kusanagi replied.

Momiji's eyes widened in horrified reaction and she moaned.

"Oh god." Clenching her hands together in her lap, she stared up into Kusanagi's grim countenance. "Mr. Kunikida overheard her!?" she asked, praying he would deny it. 

He didn't.

"Yes." the word made Momiji cringe even more.

"What…what happened then?" Momiji's question came wobbling out in a squeak.

Kusanagi's lip curled in irony, and he deliberately put the slushy bag of ice up against his bruised eye leaving Momiji in little doubt as to what had happened next.

"At least he had the decency to confront me before he made me into a punching bag," Kusanagi told her.

Oh lord. Momiji's body went cold and then hot.

"Kusanagi," she wheezed in hollow voice, "you didn't - tell him that –" she stopped, dread stealing her voice away.

"Tell him that we'd slept together?" Kusanagi finished for her, the eyebrow over his one, undamaged eye soaring.

Kusanagi's flat tone made Momiji's face brighten and she clenched the lapels of her robe closer to her body as if trying to hide what she had done. 

"Of course I didn't tell him," he responded with a touch of asperity removing the bag from his now numb eye and tossing it on the bed. 

"If you said no, then why would he hit you?" Momiji frowned in confusion.

"Because I didn't say no," Kusanagi corrected, shaking his head at her. "I just didn't say anything." And when he saw the look she gave him, he added mildly, "I wasn't going to lie to him, Momiji. He _is _going to be my father-in-law – sort of…"

Momiji gave a little nod of understanding, although secretly, a part of her wished that he had lied. She found this whole situation completely mortifying.

"So," she breathed, "he took your silence as an admission of guilt?" Then Momiji gave a little hiccough of miserable laughter before answering her own question. "What am I saying? Of course he did. What other conclusion would he draw from it?" Momentarily dropping her face into her hands she moaned again and then said, "I take it that's when he hit you? – With everyone standing there, watching, of course"

Er, well, he had a few - words - to say beforehand," Kusanagi explained, and then paused. "No wait… come to think of it, he was saying those _as_ he hit me; so, technically, you're correct." 

Momiji bounced to her feet, pacing a little as she fidgeted with her robe, her belt and then the tail of her braid. Her restless footsteps carried her towards the window and she stopped to look out into the darkness, still swirling the tail of her braid round and round her finger. "How am I supposed to face him knowing that he knows…" her troubled words trailed off into a disconsolate silence and Kusanagi softly sighed.

He'd known it was going to be this way. Stealing up behind her, he gently tugged the thick rope of hair that she was toying with, slowly pulling it from her grasp to let it trail freely down her back. She looked over her shoulder then. The emerald eyes that met his were shadowed with such distress that he immediately reached out.

His arms encircled her and turned her around, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "It's really not that bad, Princess," he murmured bracingly. "Once I told Kunikida that we're getting married, he calmed down quite a bit. At that point, I think he even offered to brush away the dust while picking me up off the ground. Either that, or he was trying to get in a few extra whacks under the pretext of helping me."

His tone was blithe and airy as he tried to lighten her mood; but Momiji didn't respond to it the way he'd hoped. 

Instead she leaned heavily against him, her face burrowed into his chest and she plaintively cried his name. 

"I'm teasing, sweetheart," he assured her with a brief squeeze, silently wishing he was better at offering her the comforting words she needed to hear. Drawing in a deep breath he said gently, "I know you didn't want Kunikida to know, Momiji; but at this point, that can no longer be helped. I would've rather he hadn't found out as well– since it would have saved me the misery of a sore eye. But, in all honesty, I don't think he even realized he'd thrown the punch until I was lying on the ground. He looked completely shocked that his fist had actually made contact." Kusanagi chuckled a little in remembrance. "I would have to say, he was probably more surprised to see me lying in the dirt than I was to be there. But maybe that's because he thought I would try to dodge him."

"And you didn't?" Momiji mumbled the question into his chest.

"No."

"How come?" she asked after pondering it silently for a few moments.

"Because, he was furious with me, and, looking at it from his point of view, I felt he had every right to hit me. It's his way of protecting you, you know," Kusanagi explained and then added, "– He told me when I first came to Izumo to, er, keep my hands off of you, so I can't say he didn't give me fair warning beforehand."

Momiji finally pulled her nose out of his shirt to tilt and inquisitive look at him. "I don't recall him ever saying that."

"Well you wouldn't," Kusanagi remarked with a hint of a smile. "He said it to me while you were in the hospital after your accident. But even if you had been there, Princess, I doubt he would have said it where you could have overheard it. He knows it would have embarrassed you. – Which is another reason why I think that he regrets what happened in the subway tunnel. He knows how your interfering friends from the TAC will be. They're bound to put you under the spotlight over something like this. If he'd taken a moment to think things through, I doubt he would have made it such a public spectacle. But then, again, I don't think his rationale had anything to do with his actions at all since, when it comes to you and your welfare, he is hardly a rational man." Kusanagi slanted a smile at her then. "- In case you haven't noticed, that's one trait I wholeheartedly share with him."

Momiji struggled to put the whole thing perspective, knowing that it was too late now to do anything about what had happened. "Well," she sighed in resignation, "At least most of the furor over all of this will have died down by the time we get back to Tokyo – "

Kusanagi cleared his throat, and Momiji immediately became alert when he shifted uncomfortably. 

"I - don't think that's going to happen," he unwillingly observed.

"What?" Momiji asked disconcertedly. "Why not?" she demanded a little more tersely than she meant to and felt Kusanagi's hand against the back of her head, pressing her face back into his shirt as if he was trying to cushion her from what he was about say.

"We have to return to Tokyo tomorrow," he said.

Momiji remained perfectly still for a moment, and Kusanagi wondered if she had heard him. 

"Momiji," he called, but still she stood unmoving. He had to call her name several times before she finally reanimated, again pulling her head out of Kusanagi's chest.

"No," she stammered in protest, her concern now focused more on what returning to Tokyo would mean for Noa more than it would mean for herself. "That can't be right!" Her earnest green eyes tilted upwards and she said, "I thought Kunikida wanted Noa to stay here in Izumo."

"He changed his mind after he heard about Zan Kazai, the Sentinels, and your idea about the ceramics."

"Changed his mind!?" Momiji squeaked in alarm, taking a step away from him, "but, but…"

Kusanagi reached out and grasped her arm to keep her from retreating further as he explained, "Kunikida thinks your idea has exceptional merit, Momiji and he wants Ms. Matsudaira to begin working on the ceramics right away. Once they have a prototype, she'll need to have access to Noa in order to test the ceramic's efficacy at cloaking his energy from the Tengugaki." 

Momiji bit her lip and reluctantly nodded and Kusanagi gave her an understanding look.

"Don't worry, Momiji," he said reassuringly, "Noa will be just as safe in Tokyo as he is here - until the new moon that is – then; he won't be safe anywhere, unless we have that ceramic field to protect him. Then, while you're helping Ms. Matsudaira with the ceramics, I'll be helping the TAC to track the Sentinels." He turned his face slightly away from her at this point, his skin crawling a little as he remembered the pounding sensation that had inundated him for the short time he'd been in Tokyo. And he wondered if he would be able to sleep at night once they returned there. "The city is overrunning with their energy, Momiji," he told her grimly, his face pulled into taut lines as he recalled the carnage in the subway. "If Tamanasu returns as Zan Kazai said he would, then I want to make certain that the rest of the Tengugaki have failed to build up their power. If Tamanasu doesn't have any comrades to siphon energy from, then maybe it will be easier for us to take him down."

Kusanagi turned away from his dark musings to direct a searching gaze at Momiji. She was nodding in agreement to everything he said, but he got a glimpse of the dread shadowing her eyes before she glanced away. He was all too familiar with the fears she felt because they were the same as his own. If they should fail, the consequences were too terrifying to truly comprehend. But, he reminded himself, trying to shake the feeling of impending doom, not everything about the future was as bleak as it seemed. One other subject that he and Kunikida had discussed he had yet to tell Momiji about. Perhaps now would be a good time to do it. 

"Momiji, there is one other thing that I need to tell you" he said softly, and Momiji tensed again, wondering what it could possibly be. 

Stealing herself for more bad news, she took a deep breath and brought her gaze back to him. 

"Kunikida would consider it a great honor if we were to marry at his home, Momiji. I told him I would have to discuss it with you, but I was thinking that, if it could be arranged, we could have the ceremony in a few days time – maybe at the end of this week."

Kusanagi was relieved to see the shadows recede as Momiji's eyes brightened once again. 

"Thought sounds wonderful," she smiled.

Kusanagi smiled too, but it quickly transformed into a wicked grin.

"I'm glad you don't mind it being rushed," he told her, "since I don't think my face can stand up to the rigorous pounding Kunikida would inflict for the constant changes that will undoubtedly be occurring to my aura." 

Momiji's eyes rounded, and she playfully jabbed him in the arm. "Kusanagi!" she exclaimed repressively and he chuckled. "Be serious, I'm sure Mr. Kunikida wouldn't hit you again, even if your aura was flashing red white and blue, " she observed mildly, while her face filling with one of those colors.

Kusanagi raised a challenging eyebrow and whispered seductively, "Would you care to test that theory, Princess?"

Momiji leaned comfortably into his solidness, drawn by the intimacy in his eyes, but declined his offer.

"I think we should at least wait until this eye heals," she suggested with reluctance pointing to the vivid patch around his eye, "before we try and tempt fate again." 

Kusanagi put his arm around her waist and heaved a martyred sigh as he led her back towards the bed. "I was afraid you were going to say that," he lamented teasingly as he helped her under the covers. 

Removing his t-shirt he climbed into bed next to her. He turned on his side, flinging his arm over her hip and drew her back up against his chest. He relaxed, enjoying the soft feel of her flannel nightgown against his chest along with the nice curves that it hid with its deceptive volume. _ Ooh, how he itched to tempt fate_, he mused, _no matter how many bruises it would cost him_. But it was too soon. Momiji's body would need a chance to recover.

"Ah, Princess," he breathed, unable to keep his palm from appreciatively tracing the tempting curve of her hip before he made himself still its movements. "I know we're waiting, but even so, remind me to stay away from Sakura until after we're married. Her psychic abilities have definitely become a hazard to my health."

"You wouldn't have to worry about her abilities if we decided to wait until after we're married," she humorously pointed out.

"Unh-uh," he responded plaintively, his arm tightening around her. "I don't want to do that – I don't think I _can _do that."

Momiji gave a sleepy chuckle and wiggled closer to Kusanagi, ignoring his heartfelt groan.

"I don't think I want to do it either," she admitted with a smile which stretched into a grin when he groaned again. 

Laughing at his comic show of discomfort, she whispered, "Goodnight, Kusanagi." 


	39. 38: Under The Cherry Tree

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Head bent forward, Kusanagi moved slowly along the sidewalk, watching the long lines of his shadow move in stride with him. The sun was beginning to set now. That meant it would be time to go to work soon, hunting the last of the Sentinel Tengugaki that remained in Tokyo. He absently listened to the dry scratching of a leaf as a chill wind blew it across the pavement. It skittered across the dimness of his silhouette before falling prey to his other shadow; the one that had kept pace with him over the past three weeks no matter where he'd gone. 

Kusanagi turned his head slightly, slanting a swift, shrewd look behind him as he heard the telltale crunch of the leaf being crushed beneath Murakumo's shoe. His brow fell into a frown and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his new, long overcoat, slowing to a stop as he waited for the long haired man behind him to catch up. He knew the moment that Murakumo drew abreast with him, although neither man looked at the other. Despite the fact that they'd been in each other's company for the past three weeks almost constantly - whether it was at a distance or in close quarters, like now, they rarely looked at each other.

"So?" Murakumo pointedly asked, and Kusanagi made an impatient noise.

"Can't you think of something different to open your conversations with?" he asked irritated, staring off into the distance. "As perfect at you claim to be, you really suck at conversational openers."

Murakumo felt his spine begin to stiffen in annoyance, but he refused to let the little bug standing next to him get to him.

"I'm not here for your conversation," Murakumo informed him coolly. "I'm here for one reason and one reason only: you can sense the Tengugaki and I cannot."

"Well then, why the hell do you have to follow me around, dogging my steps all day?" Kusanagi flared up. "That flawless intellect of yours should have kicked in by now and informed the slower parts of you about the Tengugaki's nocturnal habits. They're more active in the evening hours than they are during the day." Kusanagi turned his head and looked into the alleyway they were standing next to, absently searching for any abnormal movement. "It bother's me to feel you skulking in the background, like some kind of thief or mugger," he grumbled lowly as his cursory investigation turned up nothing, just like he knew it would. Heaving a sigh, he began moving forward again, and after a heartbeat, he heard Murakumo fall into step behind him. This inflamed him even more and he jerked to a halt exclaiming, exacerbated, into the air in front of him, "Every time I look over my damned shoulder, there you are! Can't you find something to do on your own, at least until the sun goes down?"

"What's the point of my wandering alone around this filthy city when there is little hope of stumbling across a Tengugaki on my own? It's better that I stay close to you and your colleagues, since you have a better chance of finding them; even if the chances are far more diminished during the day than at night."

"Well then, why not bother one of the TAC members for a change? They have their TLTS system now – " Kusanagi suggested heatedly. "Give me a break and go tag along with Kome – She can use you more than I can – you'd make a hell of a target for bazooka practice."

Murakumo chose to ignore the sarcastic part of Kusanagi's suggestion and replied, "Their little digital toys can't compete with the tracking ability Kaede the Kushinada loaned to you, which is why they aren't here now." 

Kusanagi couldn't suppress the ironic twist to his lips at Murakumo's choice of words. It had really irked him that Kusanagi had an ability that he didn't and when Kusanagi had let it slip that it was something Kaede had given to him, Murakumo never lost the opportunity to point out in some way or other that it was not an innate ability. 

"-Not only that, but they are too slow for my taste, moving at the sluggish pace of a snail. By the time they've locked onto a signal, the Tengugaki is aware of their presence and already submerging back underground again. You, on the other hand, while still in serious need of some tactical fighting skills, are quicker on the strike. We've been able to take out the majority of the nine while the TAC has only managed to take down one."

"The TAC's main function is to keep civilian casualties down, which is what they've accomplished, as well you know," Kusanagi retorted. "It's been our job – yours and mine - to actually try and take out the Tengugaki. That might have been done a lot quicker if you were helping them instead of me, since we would have two fighting fronts instead of one," he pointed out blackly.

Murakumo negligently shrugged it off, "Whatever," he replied carelessly. "I will not trail behind a group of bumbling humans. It is beneath me."

"You are _such _a royal jackass," Kusanagi informed him in clipped tones. 

"You think I care about what you think of me, Kusanagi?" Murakumo drawled in a supremely bored voice. 

His apathetic response drew Kusanagi's gaze directly to him for the first time since the two men had been standing there, and Kusanagi spun around to shoot him a knowing look.

"No, I _know_ you care far more than you let on; although I'd never expect you to admit it." His acerbic remark received no response from Murakumo; not even the slightest flicker of an eyelid, so he smoothly added, "You see, Murakumo, I know where it is that you go at night, after our raids are over." Gazing steadily at him, Kusanagi took a step closer so that when he whispered his next words, Murakumo would be sure to hear them. "I've seen you sitting there - on her balcony more than once – " he didn't bother clarifying who "her" was, since there was only one person whom he could be talking about anyway. " - and in the morning before you set out to join me, I'll bet that's where you are as well." 

Murakumo's jaw tightened, but he refused to break his silence. Instead he curled his hand into a fist and thought strongly about splitting Kusanagi's nose open with it. The only thing keeping him from doing it was the knowledge that Kusanagi was his only viable way of tracking the Tengugaki. They only had a few days left to find the last one so he still needed the irritating fool. 

Kusanagi might be unaware of the thoughts that seethed behind Murakumo's hard, cold eyes, but he didn't miss the tension of the other man's clenched fist. He should probably leave well enough alone, but he was heartily sick of seeing that haughty expression. So he continued on, testing the limits of Murakumo's disdain.

"Momiji's spoken to Midori; so I know you haven't made yourself known to her, even though you go there every single night. I wonder why you haven't approached her, since it's quite obvious that you want to." Kusanagi quirked an eyebrow at him and drawled, "Of course, the obvious conclusion is it's because you're afraid of what people would think." He emphasized the word 'people' before adding, "Being the king of Aragami, it would gall you to let us humans think that you give a damn about any one of us, wouldn't it?" 

Kusanagi snorted then and looked away in disgust. "You know what I think?" He gave a hard laugh and muttered, "Oh, that's right; you've already told me that you don't care what I think." His gaze shifted again, and he shot a fulminating glance at Murakumo. " - Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. I think that what your grandiose, detestable, Aragami pride amounts to is nothing more than cowardice." His lips compressed into a thin line and he scowled, "It dictates your actions, telling you that emotions make you weak, and so you suppress how you really feel." Murakumo couldn't keep the flash of surprise from his face. "You seem startled, Murakumo," Kusanagi commented, "but you really shouldn't be. Despite how much we hate each other, you and I do share one thing in common – well," he ironically amended, "maybe two things – but the one thing I was referring to, is the fact that we share Orochi's Aragami souls. On some levels I can sense your emotions. Your hatred for me is what I feel most," he acknowledged with a grin and then added, "but there, lurking in the darkest corner of your heart to where you've banished them are your softer emotions – the ones that make you care about your half human son, and draw you to a dark balcony every single night." 

Kusanagi stopped and examined the bemused expression on Murakumo's face. 

"In the long run, I guess I should be glad that you're too caught up in your pride. You would only hurt her more with your arrogance if you stopped standing on the balcony and actually went in to see her," Kusanagi concluded dismissively. Turning away, he added quietly, "But then again, I don't think I've ever seen her any unhappier than she is right now…" 

He let his voice trail off into Murakumo's unrelenting silence and was surprised when Murakumo asked, "And the other thing we share?"

Kusanagi gave him a considering look and against his better judgment replied, "A burning need for the soft smile of a giving heart." 

Sure that he would only receive rejection for such a statement, Kusanagi turned away before Murakumo could react. He was more than ready to end this conversation anyway. His original intent had been to goad Murakumo with his observations, but it had ended up being something else. Why did Midori care for such an autocratic snob anyway? he asked himself grumpily. With an impatient jerk of his head Kusanagi shook away the thought. He took several steps ahead before he found himself shuffling to a reluctant stop, grimacing as he remembered what Momiji had made him promise he would do. 

Turning on his heel, he swung around and faced Murakumo again. 

"By the way," he muttered tersely, "if you're going to follow me during the day tomorrow, be warned that it will be to my wedding. You should…" Kusanagi's throat instinctively tightened to keep the words from spilling out. He would rather get down on his hands and knees and lick the pavement than do this, he thought. But Momiji had pestered him constantly about it all week, and he knew that she would be angry – no; not just angry, she would be livid - at him if he didn't keep his promise and do what she wanted him to do. 

Taking a deep breath he blurted out in his most belligerent voice, "You should consider yourself invited."

As he watched Murakumo's eyebrows soar he experienced a rancid taste in his mouth akin to having actually licked the pavement. Perhaps he should have just saved himself the trouble and done so while issuing the invitation.

"Don't think you'll hurt my feelings if you decide not to come," Kusanagi hastened to assure him with a sour look. "I, for one, have had enough of seeing your pasty face over these past three weeks that I would rather not be subjected to it on my wedding day. But Momiji seems to think that you might come if you know that Midori is going to attend – despite the fact that I keep telling her otherwise," he concluded with a scowl. "So do me a favor, and don't come."

Instead of getting the response he was hoping for, Murakumo failed to turn down his offer. But then again, he failed to accept it as well. It was as if he was ignoring it altogether which, for some reason, irked Kusanagi even more. 

"I hardly think that now is the time for a wedding," Murakumo finally intoned coldly after a long moment. "You do realize that in just a few days, the moon will have completely disappeared?"

"Of course I do," Kusanagi retorted stiffly.

Murakumo's lip curled. "And having a wedding is more important to you than killing the Tengugaki?"

"Yes," Kusanagi replied curtly, "- and no."

Murakumo cocked an enquiring eyebrow at Kusanagi. For a long moment silence reigned between them.

"Have you stopped to think about tomorrow at all?" Kusanagi finally asked him, and at the look on Murakumo's face he made an impatient noise, "I don't mean tomorrow 'tomorrow', but the future. What it will be like…" 

"Of course," Murakumo replied loftily but Kusanagi snorted and shook his head.

"All you think about is your kingdom, and the way you _want _things to be – but the reality – it's far different." Kusanagi muttered turning on his heel and trudging forward again, pulling up his collar as a bitter gust of wind hit him in the face. "We may be hunting the last Tengugaki Sentinel at the moment, but how long will that last?" he demanded darkly, and then threw over his shoulder "until the new moon, right? And then what? Tamanasu returns, that's what. And my guess is he won't be returning alone either." Kusanagi stopped to stare down another alleyway, searching the lengthening shadows more carefully since dusk was beginning to set in and the presence of Tengugaki was becoming a little stronger now. "As long as their Arch Daemon, Akumakai, remains beyond our reach, we will never win," he predicted bitterly. "It will be one long bloodbath if we can't find a better way to stop them. Especially if what Zan Kazai said was true – if they gather enough power to increase their numbers, then you and I are not going to be enough to stop them." Nothing was moving in the alley and he turned and moved on. "That's why this wedding is so important to me," he explained, not really caring if Murakumo was bored by all this or not. "Momiji is…" his voice petered out. He was reluctant to put into words exactly how he felt about Momiji so that Murakumo could mock him or make light of how he felt. "she is special," he finally settled for saying, "giving me something to fight for; a reason to keep going, to keep hoping that together we can find the end." He finally looked over his shoulder at Murakumo and was surprised to find him looking thoughtful instead of playing the disdainful aristocratic lord as he usually did. 

"You're wrong, about my kingdom – the way I want things to be." Murakumo finally responded in a low, toneless voice, "When I think of tomorrow, I think only to survive to see another sunrise. As long as I survive, and my son survives, then I have done my best. But for the future of my kingdom – I do not know anymore. " he stopped a heavy silence falling between them. "I no longer have a clear view of what lies beyond the survival of tomorrow –" he murmured mostly to himself as he became immersed in his thoughts. "My kingdom was a hollow dream. I know that now," he murmured in subdued tones which became focused and sharper as he declared, "Even so, I will not turn my back on my own race and help the humans to corrupt the earth."

He glared defiantly at Kusanagi who calmly returned his gaze.

"No one's asking you to," Kusanagi said, "but humans have a right to live as much as the Aragami do. And your son, Murakumo – he may be Aragami, but he's also half-human," Kusanagi replied. 

"What are you implying?" Murakumo demanded with a frown.

"What I mean is that if you try to turn him against the humans, you are in danger of destroying him since he is also human." Kusanagi looked away then and stiffly added, "If you have any feelings at all for your son, you will not try to keep him from embracing his human nature. He needs to understand that part of himself." Kusanagi was suddenly very uncomfortable. _ Why was he saying these things_? he thought in dismay. Perhaps it was the memories of his own barren childhood that caused it, he concluded. At least that's what he attributed to when, with horror he heard himself mutter, "More than anything, you need to find him a mother." 

"The hell you say?!" Murakumo choked in fury. 

The hell is right, Kusanagi berated himself. His wits had totally gone lacking. Even with the excuse of his own lousy childhood he could find no reason why he would say such a thing. _Noa deserves every right to happiness - the happiness you'd never had,_ came a thought from deep within him, _and the unconditional love of a mother; something every child needed._

A nauseating presence tugged sharply on Kusanagi's conscience pulling him away from his wayward thoughts and his body reacted immediately by tensing. He whipped his head around and, Murakumo, in tune with his change, came to stand beside him, his face tense as well, their incongruous conversation immediately pushed aside.

"Is it here?" Murakumo asked in a low voice, his grey eyes scanning the empty zigzag of narrow alleyways where they were standing.

"Yes," Kusanagi muttered with trepidation, beginning to move stealthily ahead, and then quickening his pace. "But it's sensed us as well. I think it's going to try and run!"

"Not if I can help it," Murakumo hissed, and then, "which way?" looking to Kusanagi for direction.

Kusanagi pointed towards the right, while he himself flitted forward at a forty-five degree angle. "If you go that way, we may be able to cut it off."

Murakumo didn't waste time to reply but directed all his focus and energy into catching up with the Tengugaki as did Kusanagi. _One last battle,_ Kusanagi thought grimly, _and then they would have just a brief respite before the war really began_.

Ms. Matsudaira stared down at the electronic panel in front of her, carefully watching the sine waves as Momiji entered the various sets of differentials compiled to test the new, smaller ceramic bracelets they had formulated for Noa.

"How does it look?" Momiji asked anxiously, looking up from her data sheets, her fingers still poised over the keyboard.

"Mmm," Matsu breathed vaguely, "so far so good. How many sets are there left to enter before you're finished?"

Momiji turned and glanced down at her sheets, her eyes sifting through the scribbled notes in the margins, checking for any data sets she might have inadvertently left out.

"Looks like there's only three more now," she responded. 

She began to key them in one by one, conscientiously double-checking them. Just one error could make it seem like the ceramics were doing their job when in reality they were useless. And even though right now, it wasn't that important, - since Noa was staying in a room with ceramic coated floors, ceilings and walls it would be in the future. If for any reason it should become necessary to move him, these smaller ceramic bracelets would be crucial for his safety since the ceramic walls of the room couldn't be moved.

"Done!" Momiji finally piped when she was sure there were no mistakes.

"Excellent. Now just let me check a few things," Matsu murmured, her grey eyes never leaving her computer panel. 

Sitting up straighter, Matsu reached out and began making some adjustments to the knobs and switches and Momiji took that moment to push back her chair so that she could stand a stretch her back. Reaching high over her head, Momiji linked her fingers together and flexed, sighing as she felt her stiff muscles begin to loosen. Dropping her arms back down, she looked through the long observation window that was right behind their computer station and into the room beyond. 

It was comparatively small, and despite the nursery furniture, it had a sterile quality about it. Along the back wall was a metal rack from which hung the clothing Momiji had brought from Izumo and right next to it a doorway which led to a small bathroom. The middle of the room was cluttered with a baby crib, a changing table, a rocking chair and two cots that she and Kusanagi had used for sleeping quarters from the day of the room's hasty construction – their third day back in Tokyo. Before that they had stayed at Mr. Kunikida's house, and upon his request, in separate rooms until this room's walls floor and ceiling could be coated with the required ceramics. 

Mr. Kunikida had wanted to assign a special watch to take care of Noa once the room had been completed, but Momiji had refused. Kaede had wanted her to take protect Noa, so she had adamantly insisted on staying with him. Tonight, the night before her wedding, would be the first time since she had taken up her guardianship that he would be watched over by someone else. Her wedding. Momiji felt her breath catch at the thought as the nervous excitement that had been simmering in the background all day flared to vibrant life. She and Kusanagi hadn't had much of an opportunity to spend time together since returning to Tokyo. Almost every waking moment of her day was focused on taking care of Noa and helping with the research on ways to keep him safe once the Tengugaki began to search for him again. And every moment of Kusanagi's day was spent tracking their unrelenting enemy. Just a lingering kiss that he would press against her lips while she was still lying on her cot and the few whispered words they exchanged before he pulled away to begin his grueling hunt was the extent of their time together these days. He was long gone by the time she finally arose to begin her day and was still gone when she stretched out on her cot at night, trying her best to keep the darkness that surrounded her from creeping into her thoughts.

Despite the quietness of the tiny room, it often took Momiji a while to fall asleep since her worries would always come to the forefront of her mind during these dark hours. As the synthetic peace settled around her, she would lie there, thankful that the ceramic walls were shielding her from feeling the energy pulse of the Tengugaki, while her imagination tortured her with images of all the terrible things that could be happening to Kusanagi at that very moment. She would struggle to suppress these thoughts but then others would creep in behind the first and she'd end up fretting over the future, and how fragile the shield was that kept Noa safe from the sharp talons of the Tengugaki. So much depended on Kusanagi and Murakumo's strength. She wanted to be strong too, to be there for Kusanagi in case he needed her. She had tried several times to stay awake until he returned to her, but the stress of her worries coupled with the fact that Noa's hungry cries still woke her several times a night was too much for her body, and she would eventually fall asleep long before Kusanagi returned. 

Sometimes, if she were lucky, Noa would wake her a few hours before sunrise and she would look over at Kusanagi's cot to see him lying there. She'd be so relieved that he'd returned safely that she sometimes felt like weeping. During those rare times, she'd sit in the rocking chair and feed the baby, watching Kusanagi sleep and note how his handsome face would be drawn into deep lines of exhaustion. It worried her and she longed to reach out and touch him, to wake him so that she could hear him tell her everything was okay. But he needed his rest more than she needed reassurance, and so she never did. He was pushing himself to his limits for her – for them all and she forced herself to be content with the knowledge that at least he came back to her each night and touched her with his warmth each morning before he left. 

For now, it was enough she told herself as she came back to the present, her green eyes focusing on the quiet, dark-headed girl ensconced in the rocking chair behind the observation window. Midori didn't even have that, Momiji thought sadly, her eyes moving over her best friend's pale countenance, noting the gentle smile the curved her mouth and the warmth that lit her brown as she looked down at the baby cradled in her arms. No one loved Noa more than Momiji did – except for Midori. Momiji watched Midori intently for several long seconds before she reached down and flipped the speaker switch on the computer panel. Midori's voice crackled to life inside the observation booth. 

She's singing to him, Momiji realized, feeling a knot forming in her throat. It was a familiar childhood melody, and Midori sang it sweetly, but for Momiji it was hard to listen to. She felt like Midori was slowly slipping away from them. The only time her friend showed any animation was when she was with Murakumo's son. It was Midori's driving determination that had seen the completion of the chemical formulas for the smaller ceramics. Her spirit was unflagging when she was focused on the baby boy and more than once Matsu had had to force Midori to quit working and go home. The minute that she stopped pouring over the equations on her computer screen or returned Noa to Momiji's waiting arms and said her goodbyes, all of the life would go out of her, and she would transform right in front of Momiji. A lost, bereft look would fill her eyes and her shoulders would droop in defeated weariness. The unnatural pallor of her face would become even more pronounced and the smile pasted on her face for Momiji and Matsu's benefit wouldn't even fool a child.

Concerned by these radical changes, Momiji had tried to talk to Midori about Murakumo and the results had been more painful than fruitful. Midori had finally confided in Momiji about what had passed between her and Murakumo in Takachiho, even relating to Momiji in misery the humiliation of their bedroom encounter. Momiji's heart had gone out to her friend, and after recovering from the initial shock over the fact that Murakumo had seduced her shy friend, she came to the conclusion that the Aragami Lord cared for Midori. Momiji might have even gone so far as to say that he loved Midori, but, Momiji thought ruefully, it was hard to imagine the cold, methodical Lord Murakumo harboring that emotion for anyone.

Feeling a reserved optimism, Momiji had tried to encourage Midori about Murakumo, but Midori had refused to pay any heed to her. 

"I know he's grateful for my help," she had murmured in a subdued voice without looking at Momiji, "he told me so before he left. But –" she'd stopped then, the short strands of her hair quivering around her face as she'd tried to suppress the quake of her voice. "- I don't think I'll ever forget that look on his face after we – after he left me that night. He was repulsed, Momiji." Momiji had been speechless then, not knowing what to say, feeling helpless when Midori's gaze had finally found hers and she'd announced, "It was the worst day of my life, and I – I really feel it would be best if I didn't talk about him anymore. He's gone now, and I have to move on, just as he has moved on."

Momiji had mutely nodded her head in agreement even though privately, she'd known that Midori hadn't moved on. She might say that she was moving on, Momiji thought as she continued to watch Midori rock Noa. She might have even convinced herself of it as well. If that were the case, then she was the only person that believed it. That was why Momiji had insisted that Kusanagi invite Murakumo to their wedding. If he came, then perhaps it would help to rejuvenate Midori's spirits somewhat. That was if he came, which he most likely wouldn't do since he and Kusanagi still couldn't stand each other's company.

The singing had stopped and Momiji realized Midori had looked up and caught her staring. Pinning a cheerful smile on her face, Momiji raised a hand and waved to her friend before stepping forward and pushing at the glass door that separated the booth from the room. As she closed the distance between them, she noted that Midori watched her nervously, almost as if she was afraid of anyone examining her too closely. Reaching her side, Momiji kept her smile in place, and, trying to put her best friend at ease, began to talk about how excited she was about tomorrow.

It did the trick. Some of the tension left Midori's shoulders and her face relaxed into a less rigid expression. 

"Sounds like you're all ready for tomorrow," Midori observed, gently patting Noa's back.

"Yes, I think so," Momiji beamed, her expression dimming somewhat as she added, "I'm just hoping that the weather reports for tomorrow are wrong. Otherwise I might be holding an umbrella at the altar."

Midori looked a little disconcerted at that and then she laughed. "I haven't heard that it was supposed to rain!" she said.

"Yes," Momiji sighed resignedly, crossing her arms, "that's what the weathermen keep predicting." And then she grimaced, "I guess that's what I get for not sticking to my original plan of having the wedding at Mr. Kunikida's house. But the thing of it is, when I found out that the Great Cherry Tree in Susanoh-oh park was blooming, I knew that I had to have it there. It was like Lord Susanoh-oh was telling me that he approved …" Momiji's voice trailed off uncertainly before picking back up again. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just a coincidence."

"I don't think so," Midori remarked softly, drawing Momiji's attention back to her. "With everything that's happened, Momiji, how can you not believe that this is his way of blessing your union with Kusanagi?" Momiji's cheeks flushed a little at that and she smiled. "Don't forget too," Midori added as she shifted Noa and rose from the chair to move towards his crib. "Susano-oh is god of storms. There's no way he would let it rain on your wedding. - No matter what the weathermen say." Midori gently laid the sleeping baby in his crib, pulling a blanket up over his shoulders. His little fists were drawn up close to his face and her fingers momentarily touched the small ceramic bracelet encircling one of his wrists. She pulled away when she felt Momiji come to stand beside her. "Are you still planning on staying the night with Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida tonight?" she inquired with a sideways look at her friend's face.

Momiji rested her hands against the smooth wooden rails of Noa's crib and nodded her head. "Mom called me a few hours ago. She just got in from Izumo. She's staying with them as well. We're all having dinner later this evening."

"What about Kusanagi?" Midori wanted to know.

"He's still out with Murakumo," Momiji tried not to notice how Midori tensed when she his name so she rushed on, adding, "I don't think he'll be coming. 

"Is he also staying with the Kunikida's tonight?" Midori asked trying to stave off the awkwardness that began to rise between them. 

Momiji shook her head and replied, "He's staying with Kome and Yaegashi tonight." Picturing the three of them together made her laugh a little and she added, "Neither Kome nor Kusanagi are too thrilled about that. He told me that he'd rather come back here and stay with Noa, but Mr. Kunikida vetoed that idea, saying it was his right to do so since he and Ryoko are acting as our Nakodo for the wedding. He insisted that Kusanagi spend tonight thinking about the commitment he would be making tomorrow, and felt Kusanagi would have more time to do so if he didn't have to take care of an infant." Momiji grinned then recalling the martyred look on Kusanagi's face. "I don't think he'll get much reflecting done while Kome's around though. Knowing Kome, she'll want to have a long heart to heart conversation with Kusanagi on my behalf. He'll be lucky if she doesn't whip her bazooka out and threaten him with it," she twinkled.

"No wonder he doesn't want to go," Midori replied amusedly, "I wouldn't want to go either."

There was a pause in the conversation and striving not to sound too anxious, Midori finally asked, "Has it been decided, then, who will be staying with Noa tonight?" 

Momiji slid Midori a sympathetic smile and replied, "I think Matsu said she was going to do it." Midori tried to keep the disappointment off of her face as Momiji explained. "I know you wanted to do it, but you've been working so hard on getting the new ceramics finished that you've neglected everything else. Matsu just wants you to get some rest." Momiji wanted to say more, to voice her patent concern for Midori's welfare, but one look at Midori's face told her that such remarks would be unwelcome.

Midori interpreted the troubled look on Momiji's face as one of pity and she turned away. She didn't want pity, she told herself, her heart nothing more than a stone in the middle of her chest. She just wanted to forget…

"Girls," Matsu called to them, her head stuck through the half open glass door.

Both Momiji and Midori turned to her, relieved by the distraction.

"You can take Noa's bracelets off now," she informed them and then beckoned to them, "And them come take a look." 

Momiji waited while Midori reached down inside the crib and gently removed the ceramic bracelets and together she and Momiji shuffled toward the observation booth in awkward silence. Matsu was already back in her chair, sitting in front of the computer. As they entered the booth, she beckoned them closer and they crowded closer to her chair to look get a look at what she wanted to show them.

"I thought you might be interested in the results of the testing we've been doing on the ceramics," she said. After a few rapid keystrokes, she hit enter and a set of oscillating waves appeared on the screen. "You see these?" she asked the girls, using her pencil to point to the two different wave patterns. "This is the energy wave pattern for Noa's mitamas and this is the one for the old thermal ceramics that we used to construct this room. From previous testing, we already know that their amplitude and frequency cancel each other out, resulting in the ability to mask Noa's mitamas." She glanced up a moment to see both girls studying the wave patterns before she continued. "Now look at this," she murmured, typing a few more keystrokes and then hitting enter. "This is the wave patterns for the new ceramics. It looks very similar to the wave pattern of the old ceramics, except for the period of wave motion. It's shorter."

"So what does that mean?" Momiji wanted to know with a blank look.

"It means the ceramics don't work," Midori said wearily.

"No," Matsu interjected, turning to survey the two girls, her grey eyes traveling between them, "that's not necessarily what it means." Turning back to her keyboard she began typing again and as she hit enter she said, "The wave of the new ceramics does just what it's supposed to." She pointed to the motion of the waves, "it causes interference and masks Noa's mitamas, but if you explore its cycle, it does more than that. It actually begins to change the mitamas' energy wave."

"Change?" Midori asked, leaning forward to get a better look. "How?"

"The frequency becomes shorter and the amplitude begins getting bigger, creating a higher concentration of wave motion."

"Is that bad?" Momiji wanted to know.

Matsu hesitated before answering, "I'm not certain if you could call it bad or good. What it amounts to is a build up of concentrated energy. It would be like powering up the mitamas. The ramifications are quite staggering if you consider using it for Murakumo or Kusanagi. It would enhance the power of their mitamas ten fold. I think I'll talk to Mr. Kunikida about using the remaining ceramics to create adult size bracelets, just to test them. However, these," she took the bracelets that Midori was holding and placed them in a small, plastic lab receptacle, "I don't think should be used for Noa. We can't say what effects they would have on his developing system."

"Hey!" Momiji exclaimed as full meaning of Matsu's words sank in, "Are you saying that you think that these new ceramics might help Kusanagi and Murakumo to defeat the Tengugaki more easily? That would be so great!"

"Wait before you get too excited, Momiji. I know having Noa wear them is not a prudent idea, but even for Kusanagi and Murakumo – " she shook her head a little dubiously, "I'm not at all certain what the prolonged effect would be if they're worn for any length of time. These ceramics could actually do more harm than good. What if they caused the mitamas to become unstable or even worse, what if they overloaded the mitamas and caused them to burn themselves out? Theoretically, that could result in death for both Murakumo and Kusanagi." Her words quickly doused Momiji's enthusiasm so she reached out and gave Momiji's arm a light squeeze. "I don't think you need to be quite so glum about it," she said bracingly. "These new developments _are _a good thing, Momiji. It's just we need to be a little cautious with our optimism until we know more." Momiji nodded her head in agreement, and Matsu's grey eyes shifted to Midori who was standing, pale and solemnly silent by Momiji's side. "You should be very proud," she offered with a smile. "It's because of you that we may have a new powerful tool in our arsenal of weapons against the Tengugaki. I think a couple days off are in order for such a brilliant piece of work, Midori!" 

Time off!? Midori thought, dismayed. She didn't want it. Working was her only solace. It kept her thoughts occupied and the long hours helped to ensure that her mind was too numb to think about anything when she finally did go home at night. 

"Oh, but, I -" Midori protested but Matsu waved away her protestations with a cheerful smile.

"No buts," she said, "you more than deserve it. It's the least I can do for all of your hard work and dedication."

Midori's brown eyes stared beseechingly at Matsu who didn't seem to notice. Momiji was going to be off for the next couple of days because of her wedding. Surely Matsu could use her help here? Midori reasoned desperately. 

She voiced as much, but the scientist just firmly set aside her words by saying, "I think I can manage on my own for a day or two. You have really given it your all these past few weeks and the rest will do you good." 

Midori wished there was some way that she could make Matsu change her mind. Perhaps if Momiji were to help persuade her, Midori might have a chance. But after their conversation in the other room, Midori knew that Momiji would only side with Matsu in this instance. It seemed she had no choice in the matter, she realized with futility. 

"T-thank you," Midori mumbled a trifle glumly. 

Ms. Matsudaira smiled warmly at her and she managed to dredge up a wan smile that wobbled and disappeared as Matsu looked at the clock and then said, "I know it's a bit early, but I think we're done here for the day." Her gaze pivoted back to Momiji and Midori and she said, "Why don't both of you take the rest of the day off?" 

And so it was with lagging steps that Midori found herself shuttled into her coat, trundled up the stairs and expelled out of the building with Momiji by her side. As they reached the pavement, Momiji took a deep breath of cool air and looked up at the setting sun.

"It's the first time in three weeks that I've actually left this building while it's still light out," she declared. "I know it's the same for you too," she said as she examined Midori's whitened cheeks. She looked even paler in the natural light than she had under the artificial glare of fluorescent lighting. "You are coming tomorrow, aren't you?" Momiji blurted out.

Midori shot her a surprised look. 

"Of course I am," she said and wondered how she had let herself become so distanced from everything and everyone that her best friend was forced to ask such a question. "Nothing could stop me from being there, Momiji," she assured her, and found herself enveloped in a tight hug. 

"It's going to get better," Momiji whispered to her, "I promise." 

Midori swallowed hard and nodded her head, squeezing her friend back. 

"Momiji," Moe called as she approached the dressing table where her daughter sat contemplating her reflection. "It's time to go."

Their eyes met in the mirror and they shared a smile. Despite the anxious expression that sat upon her face, her youngest daughter was radiant. Momiji had chosen to forgo the traditional coiffure of Bunkintakashimada, choosing instead to pull her hair into a loose bun at the back of her crown. It suited her, Moe thought, noting that a few soft wisps had fallen free to frame her high cheeks. Momiji was dressed in the same Shiromuku that Moe had worn at her own wedding. The heavy white satin of the bridal kimono was a crisp contrast to the rich mahogany color of Momiji's hair and it intensified the verdant color of her eyes. The trailing folds draped to perfection around Momiji's slight frame and Moe felt pride well up in her at what a beautiful person her daughter had become – inside and out. 

"You look so beautiful," she murmured, reaching out and adjusting one of the Kanzashi ornaments that were nestled in the loose bun of her daughter's hair. 

"Thank you, Mother," Momiji murmured and then rose from her stool and anxiously inquired, "It's not raining, is it?"

Moe hooked her arm through her daughter's as they left the room together, moving slowly since the Shiromuku restricted Momiji's movement. "Not yet," her mother informed her patiently as if it was the first time and not the fifth or sixth that she had been asked that question. "The skies are still overcast, but I think it will hold off for a little while longer - just long enough," she said, squeezing her daughter's arm, "for you to get married."

"Is she ready yet?" Kunikida's voice called up the stairs, interrupting their conversation. "We're going to be late!" he cried in agitation and they could hear Ryoko's softly chiding voice trying to calm her husband down. 

"We're coming!" Moe called and shot Momiji a conspiratorial look. "Honestly, I think Mr. Kunikida is actually more nervous than my own father was at my wedding!"

Despite Momiji's fears and all the dire predictions of the weathermen, not a single drop of rain fell during her and Kusanagi's wedding ceremony. They were showered instead with the delicate pink cherry blossoms that drifted silently from the boughs of the great tree in Susano-oh Memorial park as the Shinto priest purified all those present and then offered his prayers to the gods. When the heart of the ceremony began and despite the lack of wind, the petals continued to rain down, settling softly in Momiji's hair and against Kusanagi's broad shoulders. To Momiji, it seemed almost as if Susano-oh himself were honoring them, touching them and blessing them with the rain of blossoms and she wondered if Kusanagi felt the same as he prepared to speak their words of commitment. 

Momiji tensed, her heart fluttering in sympathy for the nervousness she sensed in her husband-to-be. He could have chosen to have Mr. Kunikida read their commitment aloud since it was a common custom to allow the Nakodo to do so. Momiji had even offered the suggestion to him since she knew how he struggled with putting his emotions into words. But he had refused, and Momiji had been secretly pleased when he'd told her that he wanted to make the vow himself. 

Turning her eyes to him, at that moment, amidst the falling petals her wedding took on a dream-like quality as he began to speak. She stared in awe at the tall, handsome man dressed in pin-striped hakama and black kimono over which he wore a haori held fastened together with a black braided cord and could hardly believe that this was actually happening: he was actually committing himself to _her,_ Momiji Fujimiya, in front of her family and close friends. 

"Together, Momiji and I take this pledge," he began, his voice uneven at first but becoming steadier as he continued, "from this day on our lives shall be lived as one. Her destiny I take to be my own, and I willingly share my destiny with her. To never walk alone, to stand hand in hand through the seasons of life, to drink from the same cup, bitter or sweet – this we offer as our bond before heaven and earth."

As he finished speaking, his voice which had been loud so that everyone attending could hear faded somewhat and his eyes softened as he looked down at Momiji. She gave him a huge, tremulous smile. He returned it with a wide one of his own before carefully reaching for the smallest of the nuptial cups filled with sake that sat on the altar before them. Taking a sip, he then turned and solemnly offered it to Momiji so she might do the same. Twice more, he repeated the ritual, each cup larger than the one before, and twice more Momiji drank from the cup before they exchanged rings and made their offering of Sacred Tree sprigs to the gods. Then they turned away from the altar to the sea of faces behind them and another pledge was made by all over cups of sake. Momiji's gaze swept fondly over the familiar faces as each drank to signify their union of family bonds through the marriage of Kusanagi and Momiji. Usually only close family members were allowed to attend a Shinto wedding, but because Kusanagi had no family to speak of, they had invited all of the members of the TAC. Each had claimed it an honor to represent Kusanagi's family and as Momiji watched them performing this last ritual of their wedding, she felt closer to each one there. 

As their wedding concluded, Momiji beamed at everyone, her eyes resting a fraction of a second longer on Midori than anyone else. She looked so unhappy, Momiji thought sympathetically. Her eyes shifted again, sweeping the surrounding area, searching for a dark headed figure before coming back to Midori. He hadn't come, Momiji thought, not even for Midori. Before she could reflect upon it further, Kusanagi had taken her hand and was leading her towards the limousine that was waiting to take them to their wedding reception.

It wasn't until several hours later that she was able to recall that moment. After their reception had officially ended, she and Kusanagi handed out the small gifts called, Hikidemono, which included the symbolic offering of sugar for happiness as well as sake, gourmet chocolates and various other small items. The last people to leave were her mother, and Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida. It was then that Momiji realized that she had one small gift bag left over. She picked it up, mentally going over who had received theirs.

"Who did we miss?" Kusanagi asked her.

"Midori," Momiji replied with a frown, trying to recall the last time she had seen her friend. It had been during Mr. Kunikida's speech, she thought. Midori had seemed agitated, and looked as if she felt unwell. Momiji had missed half of what Mr. Kunikida was saying because of the furtive glances she kept darting Midori's way. After a few minutes Midori had murmured something to Kome and then risen to her feet. Momiji had leaned a little forward then, as Mr. Kunikida, becoming more impassioned in his tribute to Momiji and Kusanagi had inadvertently stepped in her line of vision. Kome had observed Momiji crane to watch her friend and the red head had silently mouthed the words "ladies room". Feeling a little relieved that that was all it was, Momiji had nodded and then turned her complete attention back to Mr. Kunikida. 

But now that the reception was over, thinking back, Momiji couldn't recall ever seeing Midori return to her seat. 

"Here," Momiji murmured to Kusanagi, pushing the little bag towards him, "I'm going to go see if I can find her."

Momiji left the reception hall of the hotel and headed for the bathroom. Pushing the door open, she peeked inside. There, in the little retiring area, sitting in one of the armchairs beside a small table with a lamp was Midori. Her head was tilted back against the wall and she was fast asleep. Momiji slid past the door and made her way to Midori's side. Touching her shoulder, she watched as Midori's eyes shot open, a blurry, confused look in their dark depths as she struggled to remember where she was.

"Oh no," she cried in dismay as she saw that Momiji had changed her Shiromuku for a different bridal gown as was custom during the reception and was now wearing a more westernized one of satin and lace. "It's not over is it?" and when Momiji gave a small nod, she said in a faint voice, "I've been asleep that long?" Feeling mortified, she rapidly rose to her feet and then almost fell over as a wave of dizziness assailed her.

Momiji quickly reached out and caught her friend, putting her arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay, Midori. It's no wonder that you went to sleep. You've exhausted yourself working so hard at the lab. You really need to go home and rest," Momiji urged her as she watched the embarrassed color drain away from her friend's features to leave her looking not just pale, but a sickly green color as well. "You don't look well," she remarked worriedly. "Why don't you let me get Kusanagi to take you home?"

Midori rapidly shook her head, and after a few deep breaths she managed to stand on her own. "I'm fine," she told Momiji with a stiff smile. Momiji and Kusanagi were supposed to be starting their honeymoon and there was no way that she was going to interfere with their plans by having Kusanagi drive her home. "I was feeling a little… out of sorts," she explained. She omitted the reason she felt that way, not wanting to talk about it what. In fact, recalling why she felt that way made her stomach begin to churn and she tried to push the upsetting recollections away. "- I came to splash some water on my face and then I sat down for a little while to try and collect myself. I – I fell asleep. I'm so sorry," she said contritely.

"Don't be sorry," Momiji told her bracingly, "there's no reason to be. It's not your fault for getting sick -"

"I'm not sick –" Midori broke in to protest, and then, as if to prove just how much of a liar she was, she felt her stomach lurch into her throat. Covering her mouth with her hand, she scrambled from the retiring room and into the main part of the bathroom where she promptly emptied out all the contents of her stomach into pristine toilet of one of the bathroom stalls.

No wonder this is a five star hotel came the irrelevant thought even as she leaned forward and moaned in misery. She didn't think bathroom porcelain in a public facility was capable of having such a spotless appearance; but then again, she'd never really had a chance to examine a specimen of it this up close and personal before. But enough of that, she thought weakly, closing her eyes on the sparkling fixture before her.

"Oh, god," she mumbled in misery as her stomach pitched about, refusing to settle down. She kept her head lowered and after a few, long minutes, the sick feeling finally began to subside.

Sensing some relief, Momiji stuck a moistened towel over Midori's shoulder and she gratefully took it, blotting her face with it. 

"Are you feeling better now?" Momiji asked anxiously, squeezing into the small stall to assist her as she saw Midori rising unsteadily to her feet.

"Yes," Midori breathed in relief, adding, "I thought last night's curry chicken tasted a little sour. I probably shouldn't have eaten it." 

She staggered a bit as she exited the stall after Momiji, still feeling a little lightheaded. 

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she asked faintly, as she spied Kusanagi sitting with his legs crossed out in the retiring area in the same chair she had been in earlier. It had seemed fairly large to her, but it barely contained his muscular frame and he had his elbows awkwardly pulled in close to his body because of the lack of room.

"You shouldn't be in the ladies room," she mumbled, feeling sheepish for stating such an obvious fact.

The chair creaked ominously as Kusanagi unbent himself from it and crossed over to Momiji and Midori, his eyes flitting from Momiji's face to carefully study Midori's.

"I won't tell anyone if you won't," he told her with a charming smile and then more seriously, "Momiji was really worried about you so she came to get me – and I can see why," he moved even closer and she could see the concern in his eyes. "I'm taking you home," he declared firmly as he stepped towards her side and grabbed her arm.

"Midori opened her mouth to protest, but Kusanagi had already swept her towards the door and all she got out were a few unintelligible syllables before she was whisked outside.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Kusanagi said, looking back over his shoulder at his wife. "Ask the concierge at the desk for the key to our suite," he told her, "he should have it ready and waiting." 

Momiji nodded. She watched the door swing close behind them, standing quietly for a moment, biting her lip and worrying about Midori before she finally left the bathroom as well. 


	40. 39: Seeds In Winter

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Momiji boarded the elevator of the Hotel Seiyo Ginza. Her destination: the top floor where the deluxe suite was located. An elderly couple shared the elevator with her until the tenth floor and they kept giving her curious glances. She was still dressed in her western-style wedding gown, complete with veil. How odd she must look: a bride without a groom. Finding it a little amusing, she offered them a smile as the polished steel doors opened to their floor and they shuffled out. Seeing her smile, the grey-headed grandpa's hazy brown eyes crinkled into a smile and he bowed to her.

"Many happy years to you and your -" he gestured towards her with his hand and hesitated, looking vaguely at the empty spot next to her, "your, eh, husband."

"Why thank you," Momiji beamed, pretending not to notice his uncertainty as she gave him her best smile.

Warmed by the friendliness of such a pretty young lady, the old man smiled again and bowed. His wife was clinging to his arm, and he sensed rather that saw her continuing to stare with rampant curiosity at the young bride in the elevator. He realized that the lovely lady sensed it too, for her green eyes shifted away from him to his wife and he prayed that his wife would hold the words he knew were crowding on her tongue until they were out of earshot. But alas, as he tried to turn and direct her down the hallway, he felt her fingers seize upon his coat sleeve, holding him rooted to the spot as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned towards him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched in utter dismay as she put her hand in front of her mouth. It was the common stance she took when she wanted to say something meant only for his ears. The only problem was she was stone deaf and so anything she meant to whisper came out ten times louder than it was meant to be. 

His heart sank to his shoes when he heard her all but shout, "D-do you think she's one of those ladies they hire to – to – _you know _- sing and _take their clothes off? _What do they call them nowadays… a stripper?"

He cringed, his false teeth grinding together in mortification as he watched a startled expression flit across the face of the young lady still in the elevator. The last sound that he heard before the doors slid closed was a soft, trill of laughter. 

Poor man, Momiji thought, chuckling as the elevator smoothly surged into motion. She glanced down at herself, mulling over the old woman's remarks. A stripper, eh? She'd never thought of herself as having the sultry looks like the kind you would need for such a profession. The irreverent thought popped into her head that that was more Sakura's style, than hers. But, she supposed in a considering way, most real brides wouldn't be all alone on an elevator without a groom - or at least a relative to escort her. 

A stripper. 

Still looking down, she tried a little jiggle - the kind she imagined a stripper might make when shaking things up a bit - and was overcome by the absurdity of it. It just didn't fit. With the wave of her hand, she dismissed it from her mind as the elevator reached the top floor. 

Looking at the suite number on the card key clutched in her hand, she headed down the plush hallway. She traveled the entire length of the hall, her head swinging right and left as she glanced at the brass plated numbers on the doors until the hall ended with three doors: one to the right one to the left and one right in the middle of the wall. The left and right respectively had no brass numbers on them at all but the one in the middle was hers, bearing the same number that was on her key. 

"It looks like we have the whole end of the building to ourselves," she mused as she swiped the digital key through the reader and heard the lock release with a loud _click_.

Hurriedly grabbing up the train of her dress and draping it over her arm so that it wouldn't get caught in the door, Momiji went inside. Absently shutting the door behind her, Momiji removed her shoes and put her card key on the table in the entryway. Carefully, she pulled the veil from her hair, letting it hang by her side. She clutched it between her fingers as she slowly advanced into the softly lit room, looking around in awe at the suite Kusanagi had reserved for the two of them. 

"This place is _huge_!" she breathed in amazement.

She came to a stop near the sofa, her fingers brushing over the lush, striped fabric along its back as her eyes moved around the room. Besides the sofa, there was also a loveseat upholstered in the same rich fabric. Both were complemented by a rosewood coffee table and two end tables. The walls were papered in muted silver and grey and the color was repeated in the thick, opulent carpet beneath her toes. Several artful floral arrangements in delicate, porcelain vases graced the tables and on the walls in gilded frames hung art that even to Momiji's untrained eye appeared to be prohibitively expensive. On either side of the main room there were white double doors and across from her was a window or a balcony. She couldn't tell which it was, because at the moment the heavy brocade curtains were drawn across it. 

More interested in what lay behind each set of double doors than what was behind the curtain, Momiji chose to investigate those first. She found a bedroom with a king size bed behind each, along with a door leading to the outside – the unnumbered doors she has seen from the hall, she surmised – Each bedroom was also accommodated with its own separate, private bath as well; complete with marble flooring a giant tub and a spacious shower. 

After inspecting the second bedroom, Momiji wandered back into the first, where she'd left her veil lying across the bed. She assumed this was to be her and Kusanagi's room since she'd spotted their luggage in here. Kusanagi must have given directions to the bellhop to have it brought up, because it had been placed discreetly in the corner next to an ornately carved cherry-wood armoire. 

Feeling overawed, Momiji sank onto the firm mattress next to her veil and stared off into space. Everything was so; so perfect, so - elegant, she thought, bemused, absently reaching for her veil and fingering the seed pearls along the crown. 

She couldn't believe that Kusanagi had actually picked this suite for them. Not that he would pick a bad hotel room, she told herself, hastily. She'd fully expected a nice room, with emphasis on the word _nice _ – meaning, a comfortable bed, maybe a few comfortable chairs and a comfortably sized bathroom. Comfortable: she could _definitely _see Kusanagi picking something like that. But this…. Momiji's eyes went around the room one more time and she shook her head, at a complete loss. He'd never shown the slightest interest in such elegant detail as was found everywhere she looked. A muted rumble interrupted her train of thought and Momiji rose and drifted back into the sitting room part of the suite to pull aside the heavy silver curtains and discover whether it was a window or a balcony that was hidden from view. 

It was a balcony. A very dark and blurry balcony, at that, she thought, rubbing at the fogged glass panes of the French double doors as she squinted to see outside. The rumble of thunder that she'd heard had already alerted her to the fact that the rain the weathermen had doggedly predicted had finally made its appearance. And what deluge it was. Massive amounts of water were being thrown against the glass doors by strong, sporadic gusts of wind. It cascaded down the cold glass, turning the lights from the city into twinkling, squiggly blobs. 

"What a horrible night to be out," she murmured with a grimace, distractedly fingering the heavy gold wedding band that newly encircled her finger. She was glad that Kusanagi had taken Midori home. She would have hated to think of Midori trying to make it home on her own on a night like this. 

Momiji sighed, her mind now roaming freely over the troubling thoughts surrounding her best friend. Despite the uninteresting view and the draft that radiated from the window panes to brush against her skin, Momiji continued to stand there, staring with glassy eyes at the odd squiggly lights until the tips of her toes and fingers began to feel icy and a voice interrupted her musings. 

"I hope it's me that you're thinking so deeply about," Kusanagi's soft, sultry voice whispered from behind her.

Momiji jumped a little when she heard him and then she felt his warm fingers brush lightly at the nape of her neck. 

"Y-you startled me!" she gasped, as her heart shot into her throat.

Putting her hand against her chest, she looked, wide-eyed, over her shoulder at him, noticing that he had removed the bow-tie and jacket to his black tuxedo and had slung them over the back of the sofa. He looked so relaxed having unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his shirt, and Momiji's eyes were drawn to the swath of bronze color that now lay exposed. His skin radiated with warmth, the seductive power that he always wielded over her pulling at her, battling with the thoughts that preoccupied her mind.

"I didn't hear you come in," she murmured absently, finally dropping her hand to her side. Her heart, while not exactly settling into its regular, peaceful rhythm because of his sensual presence, was at least no longer in danger of choking her when she tried to swallow.

"I'm not surprised," he replied evenly, his hand shifting to rest against her shoulder. "You seemed a million miles away."

"Sorry," she sighed in quiet apology. She looked away from him as the sound of another fresh wave of water beat against the door. "I can't seem to stop worrying about Midori. How was she when you left her?" she asked, turning to look anxiously into his face.

Kusanagi weighed his answer before he replied neutrally, "She seemed tired."

"Just tired?" Momiji asked, not satisfied with his answer.

"Yes," Kusanagi said, but when he saw a furrow form between her brows, he abruptly changed it to, "well, no." And then, as the furrow became a confused look, he threw up his hands and exclaimed, "Jeez, Princess, I don't know!" 

Feeling slightly frustrated now, he turned and took a few steps away, giving himself some room to move as a vague restlessness began to settle over him. 

" - She didn't say much, really," he said with a dismissive gesture, "- Other than to apologize four or five times for taking me away from time I should be spending with you. She seemed most distressed about that, even though I kept telling her that you and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Poor Midori," Momiji sighed again, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes lost their focus as she thought about her friend's plight. "- I wonder why he didn't come." 

There was a moment of silence before Kusanagi responded.

"Hmm?" he grunted in a blank way. He was too busy looking at her to pay any attention to what she was saying. 

Still wrapped up in her thoughts, she stood with her head slightly bowed, the long, tight lace of the sleeves of her gown accentuating her slender arms and the delicacy of her hands. The cascade of white satin that began in a v-shape at her waist and ended at her feet glowed with a soft sheen as it caught the light, adding to the alluring aura that surrounded her. 

She seemed so ephemeral, so graceful, so… well, so damned sexy in a kind of chaste and demure way, he thought. Suddenly he didn't want to be talking about anything or thinking about anything. Making love to her: that's all he wanted to be doing. She obviously wasn't feeling the same, however. Or at least not that he could tell anyway, because she brought up the last person on earth he wanted to be talking about or thinking about; forcing him to do both.

"Murakumo," Momiji replied, sounding aggrieved, "I don't understand why he didn't come. I was so sure he would." 

Momiji heard Kusanagi mutter something and even though she strained her ears to make out what it was, she couldn't. Although, judging by the way he folded his arms across his chest, and the tight line of discontentment his mouth had suddenly become, she wasn't so sure it was something she really wanted to know anyway. 

Belatedly, she realized that she was putting her new husband into an extremely foul mood with her conversation, and she shifted uneasily feeling extremely guilty and foolish. 

"I – I… S- sorry," she stuttered, her fingers nervously crushing the soft satin folds of her skirt, "I – I didn't mean…" 

Kusanagi silently eyed her contrite expression for a few moments, his dark expression not lifting. She might be sorry for bringing it up, but Momiji was Momiji. She couldn't stand it when her friends were unhappy, and he knew he would have no peace until she'd had a chance to talk about it to her satisfaction.

Watching him apprehensively, Momiji heard him mutter a few more grumbles and then, Kusanagi said in a rather flat voice, "Murakumo was there, Momiji." 

A stunned look washed over her countenance and Kusanagi sighed heavily, stalking past her to take his turn at staring out the darkened, rain-splashed window. 

"H- he was?" she stammered, turning her head, her eyes following his movement. "- Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Kusanagi replied, a grim note creeping into his voice.

"But, I looked!" she protested feebly as another distant rumble of thunder invaded the room, "and I didn't see him anywhere!"

"Did you look up?" he asked a trifle flippantly. Raising an eyebrow, he looked back over his shoulder at her, his jaw brought into strong relief by a brilliant flash of lightning. When she didn't reply, he sardonically added, "He was in the cherry tree above us, Momiji. My guess is he was there for the entire ceremony, although I can't be sure, since my attention was otherwise occupied the moment you arrived."

Momiji gaped at him. 

Murakumo had only been a few feet away from her and Kusanagi during their entire wedding and she hadn't even been aware of it. 

"But why in the tree?" she wondered aloud.

Kusanagi was willing to bet that the only reason Murakumo had shown up was just to goad him. He'd known how much Kusanagi would have preferred not to have him there. Hadn't Kusanagi made that abundantly clear to him? So why else would he have hidden in the tree where no one but Kusanagi and Momiji was likely to see him? 

That had to be the reason. It was the only one that made sense to him, anyway.

But Kusanagi wasn't about to say that to Momiji. That would only make it worse and delay getting what he wanted even more. To his way of thinking, they should have been in the bedroom no more than thirty seconds after he'd walked in.

"Momiji," he called softly, letting none of the aggravation that Murakumo always riled up in him find its way into his voice. 

"Mmm?" she sighed absently, her distant eyes staring through the glass panes behind him.

"A seed will not grow in the winter, no matter how much you water it. In fact, mixing the two together can bring about snow, further delaying the seed's growth," he observed, taking a step towards her.

His words and his movement finally served as a distraction and she gave him a puzzled look. "Eh?" she blinked. "I don't… think I follow you," she mumbled slowly.

"Yes, you do," he contradicted with a smile. Reaching her side, he pulled her close, dropping a soft kiss on the top of her head. "You think if you nurture something enough, you can make it bloom, no matter what. Especially when it comes to people. You see that Midori is unhappy," he murmured. "so you're trying you're best to help fix it. You want there to be a happy ending for her, and since there doesn't seem to be one in the making, you're doing your best to manufacture one."

"Is that… so wrong?" she mumbled defensively, pressing her nose closer to the opening of his shirt. He smelled enticingly good.

"No," he laughed softly, "I don't suppose it is. But the small seeds of emotion that Murakumo may be harboring for Midori are going to have a tough time breaking through that cold exterior of his. And I don't think any amount of 'watering' from you is going to help." Putting his hands on her shoulders he held her away from him so he could look down into her face. "There comes a time when you have to realize that there is only so much that even _ you _can do, Princess. And in this case, I think we've long past that point."

Momiji's expression clouded over at his words and she ventured in a troubled voice, "But doesn't it bother you – how unhappy Midori has been. Especially knowing that it's because Murakumo refuses to acknowledge how he feels for her?"

"Of course it bothers me, Momiji," he told her. "She's my friend too, but no matter how hard you or I try, we cannot _make_ Murakumo do something that he doesn't want to do."

"I know," she sighed resolutely. "I just thought… " she trailed off into silence.

"I know what you thought, " he replied bracingly, squeezing her shoulders. "You've done your best, but now it's time to leave the rest up to them. And if nothing happens between them, well then, you need have faith in Midori - that she's strong enough to overcome the unhappiness she's suffering right now." Momiji looked dissatisfied at what he was saying, but she slowly nodded her head. "The best thing we can do for her now," Kusanagi added, "is give her room. She knows we're here for her if she needs us." 

Again Momiji slowly nodded her head. 

Kusanagi gave her a long searching look, and when it appeared that she had taken his advice to heart, he wrapped his arms around her, his voice lilting and soft against her ear as he said in a low voice, ""I meant to tell you at least one hundred times today, how beautiful you looked, but I just couldn't seem to find just the right words. Even now," he breathed, his arms tightening, "the words don't seem to be enough. I love you," he whispered fiercely.

"Kusanagi," she responded tremulously, overwhelmed at how hard he was trying to convey to her how he felt. Even though he had already told her he loved her, the fact that he was continuing to try and open up to her, reach out to her, meant so very much. Suddenly she felt like crying. Which was silly, of course. Pressing back the tears, she struggled for something to say, "I – I, love you too-_hoo_!" 

Her sentence ended in a slight whoosh as he moved unexpectedly and with lightning speed to lift her off her feet.

"Hmm. Do you really?" he asked, his mood changing with quicksilver speed as he raised a challenging eyebrow, a sensual smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. "Would you care to give me a personal demonstration?" he teased.

"A demonstration?" she asked nervously. "What kind of demonstration?"

"Ah," he sighed in satisfaction, turning lightly on his heel without difficulty despite her added weight. "That's just the question I've been dying for you to ask me ever since I got here. I think all the answers lie in that direction." He inclined his head towards the bedroom and then added, "I have been – hey -" Kusanagi stopped as Momiji shifted restlessly in his arms.

Something about the word demonstration brought to mind the old couple on the elevator and how the old woman thought she was a stripper. Momiji felt her face begin to sizzle and suddenly couldn't seem to sit still.

"What's wrong?" he stopped moving and asked after a concerned look at her red face. "Would you," he paused trying to discern just what had ruffled his wife's feathers. "Would you rather stay and here and talk some more?" he asked, wondering if maybe he had made a mistake in thinking that she was ready to end their conversation about the situation with Midori.

"N-no," Momiji shook her head. "That's not it. It's just that on the elevator – " she broke off. "No, it's nothing," she replied hastily, unable to bring herself to tell him about the incident.

"What about the elevator?" He asked, suddenly alert and Momiji realized that because of her reaction, he thought something bad had happened.

"It was nothing, really," she hastened to reassure him, wishing she had better control over her composure.

"Did someone say something to you? Do something to you?" he asked, unwilling to let it go now.

"N-no, not at all," Momiji declared, her wide green eyes staring up into his cat-like ones, silently begging him to let it go.

This seemed to make him all the more suspicious, however and his brows drew together in a frown as he almost demanded, "I can tell that something happened, Momiji. It's written all over your face. So tell me."

Her face glowing brightly in embarrassment, Momiji relayed to him what had happened. She would have been relieved to see the frown disappear from his face had it not been for the shrewd, appraising look that took its place.

"A stripper, eh?" he murmured speculatively.

"Yes," Momiji nodded with a faint, uncomfortable laugh. "- Seems rather silly, doesn't it?" she said, becoming even more uncomfortable when he didn't respond right away.

"I dunno, Princess," he said, as he considered it, beginning to move slowly towards the bedroom again. "It's so hard for me to picture it." 

"I couldn't quite believe it either," Momiji told him, relief washing through her when it seemed he felt the same way about it as she did.

"I guess you'll just have to show me," he decided, and grinned when he felt her stiffen in his arms.

"Wh – what do you mean?" she stammered suddenly on edge. Surely he wasn't suggesting what she thought he was suggesting…. Was he?

"I mean, I need a little – _visual aide _– to help me grasp the idea. I'm sure you won't mind _demonstrating _for me just exactly what it was the old woman meant, will you?" He asked with a wolfish grin. 

Oh dear god, she thought, her sense of modesty flying its flag full mast at what he had just suggested.

"Kusanagi –" Momiji began, her voice latent with dread.

"I'm really looking forward to this, Princess," he murmured teasingly, "I've never seen a stripper wearing bunny underwear before –"

" Wh - wha!?" Momiji forgot for a moment to be worried about having to strip for him in light of the possible ramifications of what he'd just said. "Are you!? – Did you!? You've seen a stripper without her underwear, Kusanagi?" 

Of course he hadn't, he thought wryly. But why spoil a perfect opportunity to tease her? And besides, if he pretended he wanted to use the idea the old lady had given her, it might help Momiji to lose some of this sudden nervousness she seemed to be exhibiting when he finally let her off the hook.

Kusanagi's face assumed a blank expression, and he said in a muddled way meant to invoke her irritation, "No… yes… No, wait…" he stopped as if struck by a sudden thought, and then made the observation, "I didn't know that strippers wore underwear… What was the question again?" 

Momiji made a frustrated noise, thumping her hand against his shoulder as he carried her through the bedroom doors. 

"So you HAVE seen a stripper in her underwear!!" she exclaimed peevishly, and then "why are you laughing!? I'm serious!"

"I know you are," he said with a chuckle, dropping a kiss on the end of her nose before depositing her on the foot of the bed. "That's why I'm laughing. As for if I've seen a stripper in her underwear," he looked down at his watch before directing a provocative glance her way. "Not yet, Princess, but I'm hoping to make that dream come true in about five minutes from now." His eyes slowly swept over her as he reached for the top button on his shirt. "And the stripper _WITHOUT _her underwear – well that should be less than thirty seconds later, if all goes according to plan…"

Midori shuffled slowly into her darkened apartment and with a feeble push, sent the front door closing softly behind her. She stood there in the darkness, keys still in hand, pocketbook still slung over her shoulder, her coat depositing the occasional errant raindrop onto the floor at her feet.

When she had returned to Tokyo, she had thought that her emotions could sink no lower. She'd been wrong. As of today, she thought disconsolately, they had performed a spectacular nosedive into the abyss of misery. She was completely mortified that Kusanagi had been forced to drive her home on his wedding night – something she would never forgive herself for letting happen – but her emotional free fall had started before then. 

Long before then, as a matter of fact. Somewhere between her first waking moments of the day when she had risen from her bed with an unsettled stomach and the commencement of Kusanagi and Momiji's wedding when her stomach had moved from unsettled to extremely nauseated, threatening outright to make an unsightly spectacle of turning inside out as a flicker of movement had drawn her eyes upward into the boughs of the Great Cherry Tree.

"Murakumo," she murmured thickly to herself in the darkness. A dull, heavy pain began to throb in her chest and her stomach again pitched in despair at the memory of it.

She had seen him there, crouched on a tree limb, and her heart had come to a crashing halt. She hadn't given much thought as to why he'd chosen to attend. Although it wouldn't have surprised her to learn that perhaps his reason had everything to do with that strong sense of superiority that seemed to rule him. Watching the humans with whom he had temporarily allied himself as they took part in a ceremony fraught with emotions would have justified his prideful belief that feelings were for the weak. 

No, what had ruled her thoughts was the knowledge that when he had seen her gazing up at the tree, he had pulled back; perhaps realizing that she might possibly see him. He'd been hiding from _her._ Avoiding _ her._ And all of the pain she had experienced when he had walked out of her brother's house after their intimate encounter came rushing back just as new and as raw as they had been on that day. Whether or not he knew that she could see him didn't matter. Because it didn't change the fact that his actions had been those of complete and total rejection. 

Taking several gulps of air to keep a sob from tearing free, Midori finally put her body into motion. Mechanically turning on the lights, she dropped her purse and keys on the counter next to the phone and then took her coat off and hung it up, neatly placing her shoes beneath her coat in the bottom of the small coat closet. Just completing those mundane tasks helped her to recover a small portion of her composure so that her eyes remained dry, and she was able to softly pad into her kitchen in search of something to put into her empty stomach.

Food was out of the question. As traumatized as her stomach had been just from the sheer stress of the day, it wasn't about to accept anything more solid than a hot cup of tea. Midori managed to get her cup on the counter and a pot of water heating on the stove before she changed her mind and turned the stove off. She would take a shower instead, she decided, thinking perhaps it would help to relax the almost unbearable tightness plaguing her entire body. Fifteen minutes later, she wandered aimlessly back into the kitchen wrapped in her bathrobe with a pair of soft, fluffy slippers covering her toes. She slowly finished making her tea and then, holding the warm ceramic between both hands, she carried it past the counter that served to divide the kitchen from the living room. Stopping in front of the sofa, she turned sideways and sat down. Propping her back against its arm, she drew her knees up, her feet resting flat against the cushion and cautiously took an experimental sip from her mug.

The warm liquid slid down her throat, its soothing warmth spreading across her midsection without further upsetting her stomach. With a relieved sigh, Midori took another sip, her eyes drawn to the thick curtains covering her patio doors. She could hear the wind rattle against the glass, despite the louder sound of thunder that also invaded the quietness of the room. 

She liked rain came the idle thought. Putting her tea on the coffee table, she slowly got up, going over to the patio door to pull open her curtains. She listened for a moment, listlessly watching the drops bounce of the cement of her patio wishing she were home in Ise. It was hard to appreciate the rain here in Tokyo. You couldn't see its color here; the way it became blue when it fell upon the water, or green when embraced by the grass or the trees. Here it had no color at all, falling unappreciated upon the hard, unforgiving asphalt and the cold glass buildings. 

This was terrible, she thought, raising her fingers to rub her at her eyes. She was actually feeling sorry for the rain. 

Better the rain than yourself, a quiet voice pointed out. 

Dropping her hand away from her face, Midori leaned forlornly against the glass, staring for a few minutes more before turning away, suddenly feeling exhausted. Settling back on the sofa, she leaned her head against the arm and closed her eyes, still listening to the rain, willing herself to concentrate only on its sound and not think about anything else. It worked. A few short minutes later, she was sound asleep, overcome with fatigue. 

This was the height of stupidity, he fumed. Lip curled in disgust, Murakumo turned up the collar on his coat and leaned back against the wall to Midori's apartment, trying to find shelter from the icy deluge beneath the overhang from the patio above hers. It did little good since the rain wasn't really falling vertically anymore. It was more like it was falling horizontally, blown sideways by the wind. Long, scraggly tendrils of black hair were hanging in his face, streams of water sluicing along each strand, free falling from the ends to course down the column of his throat and disappear beneath his coat. 

How much longer was he going to continue like this? he thought scathingly. 

Coming here day after day, sitting outside in the darkness where it was cold and uncomfortable before finally making his way to his own abode, returning just before sunrise and staying here until the sky went from grey to the palest of blue - and then leaving only when he felt sure that Midori herself was no longer inside her apartment. Pushing away from the wall, Murakumo stepped towards the patio railing, watching as the sky erupted with light in the distance and thunder rolled towards him, dying in a hollow echo.

Wrapping his fingers around the wrought iron metal of the railing, he leaned against it, staring blindly at the buildings surrounding him. He remembered what this place looked like so many centuries ago, long before he had come to inhabit this human body. His dream had been to return it to such a time, but his efforts had yielded such poor results. And his dream had slowly died, ringing just as hollow and as empty as the distant thunder. All that remained now were the fragments of bitterness and uncertainty that lodged within his soul as he groped through the darkness, looking for a path to the future.

Another bout of lightning ripped across the sky and Murakumo could feel his gaze being pulled backwards to what lay behind him. Turning his head, he peered through the long, wet strands hanging in front of his eyes to where light from the glass door spilled out unimpeded by the curtains. It fanned outwards like a search light stopping a few feet short from where he was, an assurance that his presence would pass undetected and yet at the same time, it seemed to be reaching out for him, beckoning him to come closer, to follow the luminous path that cut through the darkness. 

This was the first time he'd seen the curtains opened since he'd started coming here, he mused. He'd been pressing his body against the wall for shelter when he first became aware that Midori had opened them, and he'd turned his head in surprise to see her silhouetted against the golden color that spilled across the ground. Even in shadow he could see that her head was bent and when her silhouette receded as she moved slowly away, he knew that she was suffering. 

She was suffering and he was the reason. 

Just remembering made his fingers clench hard against the railing and he turned away, his eyes grimly swinging back towards the city. 

He shouldn't have gone to the wedding today, he thought harshly. It had been a mistake. He'd thought it would be safe, thought he wouldn't be seen. He'd thought it was a perfect opportunity to catch a glimpse of her without anyone noticing. He'd been wrong. Midori _had _seen him, although he hadn't realized it until it was too late, until he'd instinctively pulled back when her gaze came to rest upon the tree and that hurt, frozen look had claimed her expression. 

You shouldn't be here now, his pride told him grimly, but more and more he turned away from its voice, since it was riddled with the scars of his dead aspirations. _She's just a distraction to you_, it whispered, _an ordinary human_. 

"No." His voice fell as a whisper into the rain. "She is… different… _special_…" That word: special. It reminded him of how that irritating simpleton Kusanagi had described, Momiji, the Kushinada. 

'_she is special… giving me something to fight for; a reason to keep going, to keep hoping that together, we can find an end to this…" _That was what Kusanagi had said. 

Murakumo had already found an end. What he needed was a new beginning. Is this where he should be looking? To the one person who had given so much of herself to help him? Again he turned and looked. Ignoring the loud warning voice of his pride, he let go of the railing and took a step towards the door, stopping, startled as the whiplash sound of thunder crashed overhead. It was synchronized with a vivid bolt of lightning that struck somewhere close by and all the lights in Midori's apartment building flickered and went out.


	41. 40: New Paths Emerge

**** Warning!!!!!!!!! Please be advised that this chapter contains adult situations - and alot of mushiness. If you're allergic to mush - try skipping to the very end where it is relatively mush free but very important plotwise***

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FORTY

Midori awoke with a start, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. 

"The power went out?" she mumbled to herself groggily. 

Swinging her legs over the side of the sofa, she leaned forward and propped her elbows against legs, hanging her head and staring blankly at the floor as she tried to gather her sleepy wits. A split second later, she jumped, her head jerking up in surprise when another loud crack of thunder exploded in a bright burst of lightning outside her apartment. 

Pushing away the hair that had fallen into her eyes, she drew in a shaky breath. 

"Well, I'm awake now," she exclaimed disjointedly, her heart hammering against her ribs. 

Glancing towards her patio door, she listened to the rain pounding against the pavement, the thunder grumbling almost continuously now. 

"See, Momiji," she murmured to her absent friend. "Susano-oh did wait until _after _you were married to let it rain. " 

A brief smile for her friend's happiness curled her lips before it flickered and went out and she sighed dejectedly. Small strobes of light continued bursting outside the patio door creating a flicker in the room like candlelight and Midori was able to make out her abandoned mug on the coffee table. Absently she leaned over and picked it up. She took a small sip and immediately regretted it. It was stone cold now and it landed with an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. 

"Not drinking this," she observed flatly.

Making a face, she slowly climbed to her feet and dragged her tired body towards the kitchen to she wash her mug out. Once she got past the dividing counter she stopped for a minute. It was much darker here since there was no window to the outside and she had to get her bearings. There was no way she could miss the sink since it was a straight walk to the back of her kitchen, but she didn't want to slam her toes into it once she got there. With hands outstretched, she cautiously moved forward until she lightly bumped into it. 

Lulled by darkness, eyes half closed, Midori mechanically cleaned her mug, reaching out and feeling around for where she kept the dish towel when she was done. Her fingers had just brushed against it lying on the counter to the right when she became aware of it: the feeling that she wasn't alone. Her eyes opened wide then, all of her senses suddenly alert. She remained unmoving in front of the sink, facing the wall; afraid to turn around as a prickling sensation skittered across the back of her neck. 

It's just because of the storm and the darkness, she tried to reassure herself, _you're letting your imagination run wild… _

But she couldn't dismiss the odd sensation that there was something or someone in the apartment with her. In fact, she realized, truly terrified now, it was in the kitchen with her. She could hear the sound of soft footfalls behind her. Looking for something to defend herself with, she frantically cast her eyes around the counters next to her, but it was too dark to make out anything clearly. 

It didn't really matter anyway, because she already knew that there was nothing remotely resembling any kind of weapon to be found there. Not on the counters nor in the sink. She kept everything all as clean as possible. 

Perhaps this is a good reason for NOT keeping things so pristine, Midori, an agitated voice screeched at her from the back of her mind. 

What was she going to do? she thought panic-stricken. All she had was her nice, clean ceramic mug and a slightly damp dish towel. No weapon and no time to think. Midori bit her lip, her hands shaking now. Gathering up the four corners of the towel, she clenched them tightly in her fist and surreptitiously dropped her mug inside. Then she waited, ears strained to tell how close the intruder was. 

Just a few more seconds, she thought desperately, her shoulders stiff with tension. Her fingers tightening in a death grip around her makeshift weapon, she silently counted to five and then pivoted on her heel. With a frenzied cry, she swung the towel as hard as she could, aiming it upwards. The weight of the mug pulled against the towel and she knew it connected just a split-second later when the weight went slack. There was a ceramic sounding _KATHUNK _followed by a loud grunt. 

Fully possessed by the rage of self-preservation, she pulled back to continue bludgeoning the intruder but found her wrist imprisoned in a cold, iron grip. 

Making a noise similar to a trapped animal, she fought wildly to free herself until she heard a loud voice swear, "Dammit, woman! I think once was enough!"

Her struggles ceased immediately and she was rendered completely silent, her brain reeling in shock.

"M-m- urakumo?" she gasped into the pitch black in disbelief, her heart pounding for an entirely, new reason now.

Before he could answer, the lights flickered back on, and her eyes confirmed that it was, indeed, Murakumo. Midori stood goggling at him, taking in his bedraggled appearance. 

"You're, you're," she stammered, "so wet," she ended lamely.

"That's because it's _raining _outside," he retorted heavily, still holding her arm aloft. 

Dark strands of hair clung against his cheeks and scalp making the pallor of his face seem even starker than usual. This impression wasn't helped any by the seething look in his eyes, an expression which was mostly likely due to the fact that there was a large gash at his temple, and it was bleeding profusely. 

Realizing his wound was a result of her violence, Midori's face fell into lines of consternation. Guiltily, she watched the thick flow of blood mixed with beads of rainwater trickle down his jaw line. She opened her mouth to apologize as it dripped steadily from his chin onto his coat, staining its light tan color a dark green. But he forestalled her with words of his own. 

"What the hell did you hit me with?" he demanded sourly, "a brick?" 

Swiping his free hand along the side of his face, he looked at the smear of blood that came away on his fingers. With an outraged look he snatched the towel from her nerveless grasp and then finally let go of her wrist.

"N-no. It was a c-coffee mug," she stammered weakly, pulling her arm back and self-consciously twisting her fingers around the place where he'd grasped her wrist.

With a sharp look at her, Murakumo refrained from replying and stepped around her to the sink. He opened the towel and looked inside, his aggravation growing. No wonder it had hurt hell. She had hit him with such force that the mug had shattered. Compressing his lips, he silently shook the large shards into the sink, grateful that it hadn't been something as heavy as a brick. Otherwise it might have been his cracked head instead of a cracked mug.

Still standing behind him, Midori watched him turn on the water, soak the towel and then wring it out to place it against his temple. 

"W-well, how was I supposed to know it was you?" she cried defensively. "It was dark." Still he said nothing and so she pointed a finger at him and added plaintively, "You know, you shouldn't go sneaking around people's homes!"

"I wasn't sneaking," he snapped, spinning around and turning his frigid grey eyes in her direction. "I came looking for you because you weren't where you were supposed to be." 

He stalked past her to lean against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Keeping pressure against his temple he examined her bewildered expression. 

Realizing she was being watched, Midori swiveled away from him. Her eyes fell on the fragments lying in the bottom of the sink and she automatically began removing them. 

"And just where was I supposed to be?" she asked, putting them in the trashcan. 

"On the sofa," he replied succinctly.

Startled by his words, Midori looked around at him, noting that the towel he held pressed against his head was heavily stained with blood now. 

"H - how did you know that I was on the sofa?" she stammered.

"I saw you," he told her.

He saw her? 

"When? When did you see me?" Midori asked over the strange buzzing noise that began to sound in her head.

"While you were sleeping." Murakumo replied, watching the bemused expression on her face.

"Oh," she replied, unable to think of anything to say as questions began to pile one on top of another within her mind. "I, I have a first aid kit," she mumbled, pointing to the bloody towel. She watched him scowl as she added, "Let me get it." 

Moving slowly, she returned to the sink, her mind awash in confusion. How had he been able to see her? From where? _Her patio?_ Of course it had to be her patio, she thought. Look at how wet he was! But that didn't make any sense, she thought, befuddled. He'd avoided her earlier today, so why would he seek her out now?

"What… what are you doing here, Murakumo?" she asked haltingly when she couldn't fathom a reason. 

Waiting for his reply, she reached into the cupboard above the sink and pulled down the first aid kit, opening it up. _This feels so familiar _she thought, _just like Ise when he'd needed her help with his mitama_. He hadn't much liked it then, either, she thought, recalling his scowl when she'd mentioned the kit. Taking out an analgesic solution and some gauze she wondered if he was going to answer her. When he remained silent, she turned to direct a questioning glance over her shoulder at him, but he was no longer there. Midori's mouth fell open.

"Murakumo?" she called faintly. 

Clutching the gauze in her hand, she trailed out of the kitchen and into the living room where she paused uncertainly, her other hand going the back of a chair. She turned her head and looked at the patio door. It was too dark to see anything and her eyes automatically shifted to the front door. It was still locked from the inside. 

If he'd left, it hadn't been through the front door, she thought. And then her gaze was snagged by a pair of masculine shoes resting just to the side of the door. _He's still here_. Turning, she purposefully made her way towards the bedroom, stopping short in the doorway, mouth agape when she saw a shirtless Murakumo standing in front of her closet. He was wearing a new, dry pair of pants, his wet clothes discarded in a careless pile at his feet along with the bloodied towel which, it appeared, he no longer needed, since the gash had already stopped bleeding.

Suddenly all the misery she had been suffering for the past several weeks - all on his account – coalesced into a burning resentment and she crushed the gauze in her fist.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked furiously, marching over to where he stood.

He turned and looked down at her, his expression saying, '_What does it look like I'm doing?'_

"I'm changing my clothes," he replied unconcernedly.

Midori ground her teeth together. "Stop!" she snapped, snatching the shirt he'd been holding out of hands, staring disapprovingly up at him. "You don't just waltz into someone else's house and start using their things!" she berated him, shaking the shirt at him.

Murakumo's eyebrow rose at her tone and he said in an almost supercilious way, "I thought these were my things; or am I wrong?"

Midori's brown eyes burned in fury but she quietly replied, "You're right, they are. Here," she said, violently shoving it back at him, "take it. Take them all!" she choked, waving the flimsy white gauze towards the closet, "and then _get out!_"

She turned away from him and took a few steps away before she stopped, shaking uncontrollably, her mind and body in turmoil. She stiffened when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder.

"You're upset about what happened earlier today," he remarked knowingly. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured. "I'm sorry." 

Midori's eyes widened in reaction to his words and she stared sightlessly in front of her. _So that was why he was here._ _Not because he had any particular desire to see her, but because he felt he should apologize. _Pain twisted through her chest. She wished he hadn't bothered to come. She didn't want his apologies. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her – it made her feel like she was nothing more than a stray animal to be pitied. 

So this is what you meant, Midori thought dully, _when you'd said you meant to destroy me_. 

And so he was doing exactly that. Slowly but surely, he was tearing her heart and soul into little pieces.

"It's all right if you don't want to see me," she mumbled numbly. "You don't have to feel sorry for me. I don't want you to be. It was a waste of time to come here just to apologize for that, and I would appreciate it if you would just leave." 

She made herself move briskly away from him towards the bedroom door and as his fingers slid off her shoulder, she felt another piece of her heart disappear. 

Murakumo watched her retreat, unsure of what to say or do. He only knew that as hard as it had been for him to finally come inside to see her, now that he was here, he didn't want to leave.

Midori stopped at the door and without turning to look at him, she waited tensely for him to comply. 

But he didn't and she paled in shock when he softly murmured, "Let me stay." 

Murakumo moved to stand behind her, one of his hands again finding a place against her shoulder as the other softly stroked her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. "Let me stay, Midori," he repeated in a hypnotic whisper.

A strangled sound escaped her lips, and she asked in bitter anguish, "Why? Why are you doing this to me!? Is this your way of furthering your contempt for humans?" she demanded, "to make me feel…" She stopped, unable to finish her sentence as tears began to crowd her throat.

"No," he whispered. He pulled her back against his chest, one arm reaching around her neck and shoulder to hold her in a loose embrace. "When I am here, I feel less uneasy," he paused, his voice even softer when he said, "You give me… peace. I want to be here –"

"No, that can't be -" Midori gasped, shaking her head, too afraid to believe him. "that can't be true! You – you," she stammered in unsteady denial, her words getting tangled up before she could get them out. "- I saw the look on your face after we – that day we slept together" her voice caught on the word 'slept', almost breaking, and she barely managed to say, " – you hated me," before her eyes began to sting. "You were angry and disgusted…" Her voice trailed off, her entire face stiff with the effort to maintain her composure. 

It was a losing battle and her bottom lip was the first to go, trembling before the deluge about to break. As hard as she tried to hold it back, a tear breached the rim of her eye and fell with a plop onto the arm encircling her neck.

Murakumo felt a warm wetness strike his skin. It cooled almost as soon as it hit, and he abruptly drew back in dismay. 

She's crying, he realized in agitation, looking down at his arm, his finger sliding along the scattered droplets. 

The minute he let her go, the rest of Midori's composure crumbled. She put her face into her hands and began to sob in misery. Shame and humiliation engulfed her. She should be stronger than this, she thought disconsolately. She didn't want him to pity her, and yet, she behaved in such a pitiful fashion. _Why couldn't she be stronger? _

In the midst of gusting sobs and violent hiccoughs, Midori found herself being plucked off her feet. Murakumo, picked her up as if she were no more than a child, his hand gently pushing her face into his shoulder. She didn't resist him. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut, taking the comfort he seemed to be offering, her arms fastening themselves around his neck of their own volition. His skin was cold, chilled from the rain, and she pressed her burning eyes against the mane of hair that trailed down the slope of his shoulder, the water saturating its length soothing her burning eyes. 

Without saying a word, he carried her over to the bed as Midori fought for control. By the time he bent down and deposited her against its edge, she'd succeeded in reigning in her sobs, but her shoulders were still jerking as she tried desperately to regain the rest of her composure, using the gauze she'd brought for his wound to sop up the tears running down her cheeks. 

Murakumo remained silent, towering in front of her for several long minutes, looking down at her. And Midori couldn't bring herself to look at him, too humiliated at how easily she'd broken down in front of him. So she kept her face averted, her hands, clenched around the soggy gauze, resting in her lap. 

"You plague me like no other human," he remarked aloud. Surprisingly, his deep voice was neither accusing nor angry. "I cannot count the number of times that I have been here, standing on your patio, fighting the urge to come to you." Midori's head jerked up, her mouth flying open in disbelief. He had her full attention now. With deliberate movement he sank to his knees, his right thigh next to hers. His attention was drawn to her hands still tightly clenched and he reached out, taking her right one, removing the gauze as his fingers smoothed away the tension, flattening it out so that her palm lay against his. With surprise, he noted that it was actually colder than his own.

"If I hated you, or found you disgusting," he told her, his grey eyes coming back to hers, "I wouldn't be here. It's true that I didn't want to like you. I tried very hard not to, but I was unable to stop myself. That was why I was so angry that day. Because the closer I got to you, the more I was willing to betray my goals." 

"But… aren't you betraying your goals by being here now?" she asked, confused.

"My goals no longer exist as they once did, Midori," he said. "You changed that the minute that you entered the iwatto where I had been sleeping."

"Is, is that a good thing?" Her velvet brown eyes were so wide they almost swallowed her entire face.

For the first time since he'd arrive, Murakumo's lips curled into a genuine smile. "Yes," he replied easily, "it _is_ a good thing."

Midori almost missed his words, completely caught off guard by his expression. _This is it_, she thought, the blood rushing to her head as she witnessed the softness in his expression that she had sensed in him at Ise but had never been fortunate enough to see.

"I want to stay." He told her. Turning her hand over, he traced the lingering knife scar that marred her palm before lifting it to place a soft kiss against her skin. 

She wanted him to stay too, but she was afraid to let him, afraid that he would again end up leaving her. 

"For how long?" she asked cautiously. 

"For as long as you'll let me," he answered without hesitation. "Tell me I can stay," he urged.

There were no soft words of love spoken. But Midori knew that with Murakumo, there would likely never be. She loved him with all of her heart and soul, and he wanted to be with her. It might not be a fairy tale ending, but she would take it, praying that he meant what he said, for she would let him stay forever if he wanted to.

"Yes," she whispered, "please stay." 

A wide smile curled Murakumo's mouth at her acquiescence. He let go of her hand and half rose. Planting his hands against the bed on either side of her, he leaned forward until their lips met. Sparks ignited between them immediately and Murakumo edged his knee between her legs to get closer to her as he deepened the kiss. His hands left the bed, sliding against her shoulders as he continued to press towards her. And he gently tugged at the neckline of her robe, pulling it open as he slowly pushed her into the mattress. 

Her feet still on the floor, Midori felt Murakumo relax against her, his hips settling against hers, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Gripping his shoulders, she closed her eyes as Murakumo's mouth left hers and began to wander across her cheek and down her neck, drawing in her breath as his hand skimmed across her satin nightgown. He pushed her robe open further to let his fingers move in a circular caress against her midriff before continuing lower towards the short hem of her gown. Despite everything, Midori couldn't squelch the rising qualms that assailed her as she realized his intentions, and she pushed defensively against his shoulders.

Propping up on one arm, Murakumo lifted his head and looked at her, seeing the troubled shadows in her eyes and the hand against her abdomen became still. 

"I – I know you said you wanted to stay," Midori ventured tenuously, biting her lip, unable to forget the terrible experience of their first time together. "but a – are you sure that this is – this is something you want?" she stammered. "I don't think I could bear having to live through a repeat of what happened before –" her voiced trailed off as he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips against the dark tendrils of hair at her temple, leaving a draft in the spot on her stomach where it had been only seconds before.

"I didn't want this to happen," he confessed, softly running his index finger from her temple to her chin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. "Or rather, I should say, that I hadn't planned for it to happen. I only wanted to be able to see you again. - But now –" a fierce hunger flared in his eyes as he spoke, "- now that I'm here, I want more than that," he told her.

Demonstrating what he meant, he allowed his finger to wander lower, trailing across the column of her throat to the valley between her breasts. In a deliberate gesture, he let the back of his knuckles brush against the rising slope of her breast, watching as its peak tightened against the shiny blue satin of her nightgown.

How could he have ever thought that she was plain? he wondered slightly disconcerted. It was true that she didn't have that ethereal quality that Hikaru had possessed, but that very quality, so at odds with Midori's warmth and directness, made Hikaru's allure seem cold and frail in comparison. 

"You are so beautiful, how could I not want more?" he breathed in a confidential whisper, his face coming a littler closer to hers. 

Midori tried to ignore the pleasure that rippled through her when he called her beautiful. She knew very well that she wasn't, and she couldn't understand why he would think she was. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, too, but he distracted her by beginning a leisurely assault on her body, as if to show her just how beautiful he thought she was. With his hand, he traced the shifting patterns of light that spilled across the shiny, blue satin covering her chest, letting it lead him to the peak of her right breast where his thumb moved in a circular motion against its tip. 

"Your body responds as if it was made just for me," he whispered in a pleased way, cupping her breast in his palm, molding it softly with his hand. "God, you are so very beautiful," he repeated. 

He slid the arm he'd been using to prop himself up with beneath her, working his way between her robe and her back, the slickness of the satin making it a fairly fluid and easy motion. Splaying one hand against the middle of her back, he held her tightly for a moment, his other hand still poised against her breast. 

"I want to be inside of you; to be a part of you," he told her provocatively, squeezing her a little tighter. "- But only if you want me to be. Do you want me, Midori?" he asked in a seductive purr.

Midori's heart tripled its beat. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged, except for a slight wuffling sound as she tried to catch her breath. 

"Tell me you want me," he coaxed indolently, his hold on her finally loosening so he could pull back and look at her, his grey eyes urging her to comply. He began to move his thumb persuasively against her breast again, and his lips grazed her chin as he whispered, "You do want me, don't you?"

Midori squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body quivering. "I – I –" she gasped incoherently.

"Hmm?" The sound resonated smoothly in his throat. "Is that a yes?" he asked.

"Y-yes!" Midori finally gurgled, twisting handfuls of the bed sheets between her fingers. "Yes!" she cried, again, "I want y –" she broke off in a gasp, arching her back as she felt his hips press hard against her. 

Finally getting the answer he wanted, all the restraint that Murakumo had been exercising disappeared and he unleashed his hunger, capturing her lips in a searing, urgent kiss. Sliding to the floor to kneel between her knees, he abruptly pulled her to a sitting position. Impatiently pushing her robe off, his lips moved across the silky texture of her shoulders before he disposed of her gown as well, quickly lifting it over her head, his arms encircling her as he buried his face against the exquisite softness of her breasts. 

A shiver skittered up Midori's spine as Murakumo pressed against her, his cold wet hair an unpleasant shock against the warmth of her skin. The mild discomfort was quickly forgotten though when she felt his mouth close over her breast. Her head fell back in abandon and she wrapped her arms around him, arching against him as his tongue traced the hard pink tip before switching to her other breast to do the same. 

Soft noises rose in the back of Midori's throat as a sweet pain built to a crescendo where his tongue teased against her and a deep flush stained her skin. Midori's breath began to quicken, and Murakumo shifted his gaze to her face. His body was already pulsing with need, but watching her enraptured expression further fueled his desire, driving him to the brink of urgency. He would show her just how much he wanted her and obliterate the horrible memory she had of their first time together he thought fervently. 

Pushing one knee away from the floor, Murakumo pressed his hands lightly against her shoulders, urging her towards the mattress. Midori's hands curled around his forearms, trying to pull him with her, but he gently disengaged them, hovering over her, restraining from pressing his weight against her. Instead he directed his attention to removing the last of the barriers that separated their bodies. Moving quickly he stripped Midori of her underwear and just as quickly removed his pants and undergarments as well. 

Finally lowering his body, he wrapped his hands around her waist and eased her hips towards the edge of the bed so the junction of their thighs met. Slowly, he pressed into her, and Midori shuddered as Murakumo curled his hips into her, pushing so deep that he brushed against the opening to her womb. Remaining seated deep inside her, he began to move his hips against her, their bodies never breaking contact. Languorously, he rolled his hips against her in a circular motion and Midori could feel him brushing against her womb with each stroke, slowly igniting a fire in the deepest part of her.

A low, guttural moan broke from her throat as the pleasure tightened to an unbearable level at her core and she cried out, arching wildly against him, her nails tearing at the muscles of his back. The tight sheath of her body trembled and tightened around him, and Murakumo grimaced, the throbbing of his pleasure building as she bucked against him. Following the pulsating beat pounding through his body, Murakumo changed the angle of his thrusts and began rocking his hips harder, his hands sliding beneath Midori's buttocks to pull her even tighter against him. 

The new depth of his penetration caused Midori to explode in release and a few seconds later she heard Murakumo give a strangled cry, his body going rigid as he spilled himself inside her. Panting hard, he collapsed on top of her, his arms on either side of her, his head, resting just above her shoulder. For a moment, the sound of their labored breathing mingled in the room. But as it became quieter, Midori's brain started up, dredging up the memory of him pushing away from her in disgust. She immediately banished it from her thoughts, forcibly reminding herself that this time was different. 

It might be different, but it felt no less awkward, and as Midori stared up at the ceiling, she struggled for something to say. Her tongue remained stubbornly still, and she prayed that Murakumo would say something. But he didn't. She tensed and heard a sound escape from Murakumo's lips. It was then that she realized that her hands remained clenched against his shoulders, her nails still embedded in his flesh and with a mumbled apology she made herself relax them. 

"Oh, I'm s-sorry," she apologized contritely, jerking her arms back.

Murakumo grunted and after a second, he shifted his body away from her, rolling over onto the mattress next to her and sitting up. Without a word, he leaned over and began pulling the bed sheets back. Midori sat up then too, self-consciously crossing her arm in front of herself. Being naked in front of him and his perfect beauty somehow always made her feel inferior. Avoiding looking directly at him, she reached for her gown, wanting to slip it back on in order to help her regain a sense of poise. 

Murakumo's hand came out and caught hers just as her fingers touched the material and he drew her away from it.

"You won't need it," he murmured, pulling her towards him as he climbed beneath the sheets.

"But I – I don't normally sleep in the nude – " Midori protested weakly as he pulled her between the sheets next to him.

Murakumo propped up on one elbow and laughed at her as he watched her pull the sheet all the way up to her chin.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" he asked with a seductive quirk of his lips. 

Midori blinked at him. "But I thought… we just… Don't men normally like to rest after making love?" she asked querulously.

"Do they?" Murakumo replied absently, snagging the sheet and slowly pulling it down, his eyes following the rise and fall of her beautiful breasts. "Perhaps it's because they lack the motivation to keep going," he observed. His fingers languidly moved from her neck down to her navel before he reached for her hip and pulled her closer to him, his body partially covering hers. Then he took her hand and guided it downwards, wrapping her fingers around his arousal and watched her eyes widen. "You're all the motivation I need," he murmured as he nudged her thighs apart, "unless of course, you need the rest," he added as an afterthought, pulling back just a little. 

"Oh no," Midori assured him vigorously shaking her head. Already her body was arching towards him, eager for his attention and she wrapped her arms around him. "I feel full of energy. It, it must have been that nap."

"How disappointing - I thought it might be because of me," he remarked lightly, reaching down to stroke the sensitive spot between her thighs. 

Midori bit her lip, her eyes drifting half closed. "You're, you're right," she gasped truthfully, "it is…" She opened her eyes wide then, her gaze fully focused as she stared up at him. "I'm glad you're here," she told him, her unsteady voice brimming with emotion.

"I'm glad I'm here too," he replied gently, his grey eyes acknowledging the unspoken truth that lay between them before he lowered his head towards hers. 

Tamanasu hovered in the darkness contemplating the skeletal form that lay still and unmoving. The slimy layer of striated muscle was beginning to form now, veins carrying viscous liquid to the tissue, pulsating in time with the mitama that was centered on the skull. This was to be the corporeal body that his lord had revived for his use – the Sentinel body that he was supposed to use to capture the hybrid souls. The only problem was; what had become of the hybrid? 

"Tamanasu," a deathly rattle addressed him. "We knew we would find you here."

Tamanasu swung around and dropped into a low bow before Akumakai.

"My lord ," he murmured respectfully.

"It is almost complete now," Akumakai said, stretching the trunk of his body to come closer to Tamanasu. His obsidian eyes flickered between the shadowy form of his servant and the corpse that lay upon the ground. "We anticipate greatly your success against the humans," he told him.

Tamanasu frowned at Akumakai's words.

"The child's energy, my lord; it has dwindled away," Tamanasu murmured restlessly and was surprised by the sound of Akumakai's raspy, hollow laughter.

"They have hidden it away," Akumakai observed in spiteful amusement, his face stretched into a cruel smile. "They think they have saved themselves because we cannot sense it anymore."

"And they have not?" Tamanasu's words were a question, not a statement.

Akumakai laughed softly, the sound like the hiss of a many headed snake. "We have been listening to the Echoes; the shadows of things to come, and our senses have been stirred by a new awareness," Akumakai turned away from Tamanasu, his trunk elongating and sinking towards the grown as he moved to fondly caress the face of the Sentinel corpse. "We have sensed the anxiety of the gods too," Akumakai told Tamanasu, abandoning the corpse to stare off into the darkness, "for they know we are about to achieve what we desire without the hybrid born of the Child of the Moon."

"Then I am to pursue Kusanagi?" Tamanasu asked ambivalently.

Akumakai looked back over his shoulder, his dark eyes burning with a malignant light. "No," he replied tilting his head to the side in a considering manner, "We wonder if we should tell you or let you discover it for yourself – just as the Nine Sentinels did when they journeyed into the world of the humans."

Tamanasu was a little taken aback by his lord's manner.

"My lord; my only goal is to serve you," he observed, "I want to succeed, to bring you the souls of the hybrid child so you may be free. But if the hybrid child is beyond our reach, and it is not Kusanagi that I am to pursue; it becomes difficult to know which direction I must take to carry out your wishes." Tamanasu paused and bowed stiffly, "However, if you feel it is better for me to find the path for myself, I will, of course, abide by that decision. I will always do my utmost for you, Lord Akumakai."

Akumakai acknowledged his most powerful Tengugaki's words with a nod, "We have faith in Tamanasu," and after reflecting for a few seconds, he added, "but perhaps we will refrain from telling you what we know. Before you once again take your solid form as a Sentinel, we would ask that you travel to the Veil of Echoes where the darkness recedes and the shadows rise between the Road of Death and the human world." Turning dismissively, his trunk slithered back around moving towards the darkness, pausing as he passed Tamanasu. Swiveling his head, his dark eyes glittered as he murmured, "It is here that you will discover the way to defeat the humans. We know our secret will please you when you come to understand," Akumakai assured him with the air of one bestowing a great treat, "for it is a surprise worth waiting for." 

He waved his hand towards Tamanasu before he glided away into the darkness. As the blackness swallowed his twisted form, Tamanasu heard his voice, becoming fainter as he moved farther away, "We wish we could be there when you discover it for yourself – but we are content knowing that our own journey is not far off now."

Tamanasu hovered, lost in thought for a moment before he too turned and left the developing Sentinel corpse. As he journeyed along the Road of Death towards its Gate, he drifted in and out of the masses of miserable souls trying to escape the many tendrils of Lord Akumakai's body. More than once, the wails of the souls that had not been fortunate enough to evade the tendrils would draw his attention and he would stare at their outstretched hands and tortured faces as they pleaded for help, silently passing them by. He was completely unmoved as they desperately tried to find escape from the vine-like tentacles that would drain them until nothing remained, erasing their existence forever. They were pathetic in Tamanasu's eyes; a poor source of energy for Lord Akumakai and after a while, he stopped heeding them, ignoring their calls altogether as he moved onward.

Soon, the darkness began to thin, a sign that he was nearing the Gate and the closer he drew to it, the fewer Akumakai's grasping roots and tendrils became. As they dwindled in number, conversely, the swell of hollow souls around him began to rise. Like beasts, they wildly shrieked and clawed amongst themselves trying to remain close to the Gates while the newly damned arrived, pushing those seeking to remain outside Akumakai's grasp deeper into the darkness where they knew they would eventually succumb. 

As Tamanasu drew closer to them, they parted away from him, and he was able to approach the Gates and its Guardian without difficulty. As he drifted along, he could sense their fear of him and he heard the whisper of "Tengugaki" rush through them, each knowing that he was a soul eater and loyal follower of Akumakai. Tamanasu's lip curled in disdain, but he let his eyes drift threateningly to the meager souls around him, cultivating their fear of him even though he would never lower himself to siphon such trash. 

At the Gates, he paused, acknowledging the Demon Beast that kept the human souls from escaping and he stepped into the greyness beyond; the quiet nothingness that was the barrier between the Road of Death and the Human world. He did not relish being here without his Sentinel body. For there were other forces that patrolled these mists; Beings of Ether and Light that searched for Their strays to guide them away from the Road of Death and along a different path. 

Should They come across him, They had the power to dissolve him into the same nothingness that the damned feared from Akumakai. With his Sentinel body, he could outrun Them, but as he was now, he had no protection from Them. And so he traveled very warily, wondering what it was he was supposed to discover here among the Veil of Echoes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of light and he jerked to a stop, knowing that one of Them was near. He was about to turn around and go back when he felt the faintest shimmer of energy that seemed more like the stirring of wind than energy at all. The flash of light happened again, closer this time, but Tamanasu took little heed, standing stock still, trying to discern what it was he was feeling.

Slowly a triumphant smile lit his face as he recognized the energy signature of another hybrid. Turning, he raced through the grey mists of the Veil of Echoes, heading for the Gates to the Road of Death. _So this is what Lord Akumakai wanted me to find,_ he thought exultantly. Tamanasu passed swiftly through the Gates without stopping, the sound of his triumphant laughter causing the damned to cower even more as he tore past them.

"Let the humans think they have won," Tamanasu crowed in twisted delight, as a plan began to form in his mind. "Then they will lower their guards even more, making their anguish all the sweeter when they realize that they've failed."

Together with Lord Susano-oh, Kaede sat in her favorite spot in the garden her husband had created especially for her. Sunlight spilled around her, and the delicate scent of the flowers hung in the air. Normally she was at ease here, warmed by the brightness of the sun and soothed by the sweet smell of nectar, completely content to be in the presence of her beautiful husband. But today she could find neither comfort nor contentment in any of these things. Today she sat shivering, a sliver of uneasiness passing as a cloud over her heart; a sensation that remained unalleviated even when her husband dropped his hand to her shoulder, sensing her discomfort. 

"Tell me that Hikaru's son is safe," she urged, her upturned green eyes pleading as she reached up to her shoulder and wrapped her cold, tense fingers around the warm strength of his.

"He is," Susano-oh softly assured her with his thoughts, gently squeezing her fingers.

"Then why do I feel like this?" she fretted. Biting her lip, she rose to her feet and turned to face her husband. "Why do I feel this terrible sense of," she gestured helplessly, unable to describe what it was. "I don't know," she cried, "it's like a sadness – a fear that I'm about to lose something very important - it clings to my heart making it feel heavier and heavier!"

Susano-oh smiled gently in understanding, knowing there was little he could do to relieve his wife's troubled expression.

"The sacrifice of one to save another, thus has the balance always been, Sweet Kaede. That is what you feel," he told her obliquely, staring steadily at her as she gave him a searching look.

"Noa is safe, yet another must be sacrificed?" She asked faintly, her thoughts flitting swiftly over her beloved family and friends, the ones that she wanted desperately to protect. "Momiji? Kusanagi?" she demanded tensely, her expression relaxing a little when Susano-oh shook his head. "Not Father," she murmured absently, before inquiring, "Murakumo?" But Susano-oh just shook his head again, and then a horrible thought occurred to her. "Not a – another – child?" she asked fearfully, praying that Susano-oh would shake his head yet again.

With a mournful expression, Susano-oh murmured aloud, "I'm sorry." 

"NO!" Kaede exploded in denial. "You must stop it!" she cried in anguish, "You must warn them!"

"I cannot," he silently said with a firm shake of his head. 

"No!" Kaede squeezed her eyes shut in rejection to her husband's decision and turned away from him. "You – you can! Please, I beg of you!" she whispered brokenly, her hands balled into tight fists by her side, "do not let the Tengugaki claim the life of another child," she pleaded, thinking of Hikaru as just a child.

"I cannot," he reiterated gently but unrelentingly.

"Why!" she demanded stridently, jerking around, a look of defiance in her eyes. "You are the God of Storms! You could easily stop it!" 

"And if I stopped it; what then?" he asked her, stepping up and taking her trembling hands. "Your family would be forced to continue fighting a never ending battle. As long as Akumakai remains sealed in his hell where he has the resources for creating an infinite army, we can never win. And as resilient as the human spirit is, I do not think that it can withstand the constant beating and abuse of the Tengugaki without suffering. We must let Murakumo, Kusanagi and Momiji fight now, while they are at their strongest," he said staring earnestly down into her eyes. "The Night must fall before it can be sealed away by the Sun, Kaede, and so we must let the Darkness come."

Kaede's pupils constricted until they were mere pinpoints and she stared up at him out of a whitened face. "But my lord," she gasped, her voice thick with emotion as her bottom lip trembled, "if we let loose this Darkness, I fear that even with the light of a thousand suns, it cannot be overcome." 

"We will overcome it," Susano-oh assured her. Wrapping his arms around her, he squeezed her tightly, a sharp pain in his own heart as he added, "We will overcome it; but not without a Sacrifice."


	42. 41: Shadows in the Darkness

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

Midori clung to the center pole of the overcrowded subway train and gritted her teeth. The constant swaying as the train moved along its tracks coupled with the strong smell of fish coming from the shopping bag of the woman passenger standing next to her was making her extremely nauseous. As the train slowed to a jerky halt, Midori felt the fish-woman's elbow become firmly lodged in her ribs as she squeezed closer to Midori to allow fellow passengers to get by her on their way to the doors and it prompted Midori to think miserably, t_his has got to be the train ride from hell_.

The train doors closed, and the woman shifted again, thankfully in the opposite direction, taking her bony elbow with her. How unfortunate that she couldn't as conveniently take the smell of dead fish with her. Midori could still smell it - and she wasn't the only one, she concluded, looking around at the pinched expression on the other passengers' faces. They could smell it too. But she was almost willing to bet that none of them were in danger of vomiting from the smell like she was. 

Midori glanced at the station sign. Three more stops to go before she could get off, she thought in desperation. She could feel a clammy perspiration begin to dot her forehead as her stomach pitched around and she swallowed hard. It had been three days already and still her stomach virus persisted. _Shouldn't it be letting up some by now? _she fretted.

She wasn't feeling any better now than she had that first day after Momiji's wedding. She'd suddenly awoken that morning while it was still dark feeling that same green feeling that had marred her enjoyment of her best friend's wedding. She'd hardly had enough time to register the fact that Murakumo was still fast asleep next to her before she was scrambling out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before she vomited. Afterwards, she'd tottered back to bed, feeling drained and washed out and had huddled up against Murakumo's back, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep.

The second time she'd awoken, the room was full of sunlight and Murakumo's side of the bed had remained rumpled but he was no longer there. Rolling over and pushing the hair out of her eyes, Midori had cautiously sat up, relieved that while her stomach still felt uneasy, it didn't seem as unstable as before. 

Everything had been so quiet throughout her apartment, she remembered thinking, her hand gripping the train pole tighter, recalling the panicky sensations that had assailed her at that moment as she'd slipped out of bed. It had been so completely still that she'd wondered if Murakumo had gone and left the apartment. But then, before she could work herself into an all out alarm, he'd come strolling through the bedroom door. 

Midori had watched him stroll towards her, trying to calm her racing heart. He'd been up for a while from the looks of it, carrying a mug of tea in his hand, even though he wasn't what she would call completely dressed. He'd slipped on a pair of the baggy trousers she'd hemmed for him while they had still been together in Ise, along with a white shirt, the cuffs hanging loose at the wrists, the shirttails un-tucked and the front completely unbuttoned. He'd looked at home and comfortable, and very, very sexy; not that anything would come of it since she felt like someone had just scraped her out of the bottom of a garbage bin.

"Are you all right? You're terribly pale." He'd said, stopping short by the bed and staring sharply at her.

"I'm f-fine," she'd replied, self-consciously rubbing her neck. Forcing her feet to move, she turned towards her closet and said over her shoulder, "I was just going to get dressed and… make some tea." 

Afraid he would think she was weak, she hadn't wanted him to know that she'd been sick. After a long, probing look, Murakumo had accepted her response, and opted not to reply. Instead he'd strolled the rest of the way over to her while she'd stood inside the closet door picking out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and held the mug out to her.

"Here," he'd offered in a soft voice and she'd turned her head in surprise, automatically taking it from him.

"T-thank you," she'd stuttered faintly, but he was already on his way back towards the bedroom door and without turning around to look at her, he'd negligently waved away her gratitude. Midori had dressed quickly in the privacy Murakumo had given her, hastily gulping down the tea he'd left, and then just as hastily had made a beeline from the bedroom to the bathroom to throw it up. 

Leaning her forehead against the train pole, Midori recalled with chagrin how she had stood in the bathroom five extra minutes afterwards, weak-kneed and shaky as she stood in front of the mirror, pinching her pallid complexion, trying to restore some of the color. Timidly, she had cracked open the door, peeking out while she'd tried to formulate some flimsy excuse to give Murakumo. 

Her eyes had widened when she'd spied him leaning against the wall outside the bathroom door with his arms crossed, waiting. The minute he'd seen her one, brown eye, peering at him, he'd uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the wall, his hand coming up to press open the bathroom door. 

"Uh, I, uh- ." Midori had inwardly cringed as her hiding place behind the door became nonexistent. 

He's not going to buy any excuse you make, she recalled thinking.

"Midori –" His voice had been soft and gentle. "You don't have to be so afraid." 

Her mouth had dropped open as his fingers had grasped her arm and pulled her towards him, her nose bumping against the warm skin of his chest as his arms enveloped her.

"I'm n-n –" She'd wanted to deny it, but she stopped. What good would lying about it do? "I'm sorry. I haven't been feeling too well lately." Her voice had sounded thin and wobbly and she'd tried to infuse a little strength into it as she'd added, "I think I have some kind of stomach flu. It's strange, really. One minute I feel almost normal and the next, I'm throwing up."

"I don't know much about human illness -" Murakumo had let her go and taken a step backwards to cast a critical eye over her. "- but perhaps it would be best if you were to see a doctor."

"No. I'll be all right." She'd listlessly waved away his suggestion. "I'm sure it's just because I've been spending a lot of time working – even after I leave the lab –"

Her voice had died out as Murakumo had reached up and rubbed his thumb against the dark circle beneath her eye. "I can see that. You push yourself too much," he'd concluded as his hand fell to his side. 

"But it's for a good cause," she'd responded with a faint smile as they moved towards the living room. "I wanted to get the ceramics formula finished. We've been working towards making a new thermal based ceramic that's more compact to help hide Noa's presence from the Tengugaki. So far, our attempts have been unsuccessful, _but _- " she'd raised her hand and held up her index finger as they'd settled on the sofa, her head swiveling in his direction as she'd given him a bright look. "- Ms. Matsudaira thinks what we do have can be used by you and Kusanagi to help amplify your power when you're fighting." She'd turned and leaned forwards then, preparing to open the laptop sitting in the center of the coffee table as she'd added, "She just needs to do a few more tests to make sure it's safe."

"Really?" His voice had held a note of intrigue and his gaze had become a bit thoughtful as he'd murmured, "I didn't realize they could be used that way." His eyes had drifted down in interest to the pile of papers sitting next to her computer. "Is this what you're talking about here?" He'd asked, leaning over and pointing to a long scientific equation in middle of the top page of her notes.

Midori had stopped in the middle of opening her computer and shot him a startled glance, her mouth slightly agape. "How did you know that?" she'd asked faintly. 

Murakumo had shrugged. "Because of the copper oxide base," he'd replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied the page. "It looks like you've made a lot of compelling advances with the formula."

Midori had ogled at him for a few long seconds, held speechless by his surprising observations, before she cleared her throat and replied, "B-but how did you know that?"

"I just told you – " he'd replied with a frown, his eyes moving from the paper to her face.

"No. That's not what I meant. I meant, how – how come you know so much about chemical composition?" 

Murakumo had shrugged again. "I don't, really. I'm familiar with this compound because I had an interest in it at one time."

She'd suddenly understood then and felt like a moron for not having thought of it earlier.

"Oh. That's right," she'd replied stiltedly. "I - I forgot. I'm sorry."

"Why? Why be sorry?" 

He'd sounded surprised and his question had caught her off guard.

"Well, because…" Midori's voice had petered out. She hadn't been sure how to proceed, how to address Murakumo's past.

"Does it bother you?" his voice had been quiet and she'd dropped her gaze away from him, uncomfortable with the probing look in his eyes.

"No, not really. I'm always sorry for saying things without thinking, so I'm used to it," she'd hedged, purposefully misunderstanding his question as she'd reached out and fiddled with the latch that held her laptop closed.

"You know I'm not talking about that." There had been a note of gentle reproof in his voice and Midori had known that he was expecting an honest answer from her. "What I've done." Out of the corner of her eyes she'd watched him make a sweeping gesture with his hand. "- the human lives I've taken. It must bother you."

She hadn't known how to respond to that. And so she hadn't. She'd just sat there, her mouth slightly ajar until words had finally begun to emerge.

"I – I – find it… difficult to… think of you like that." 

Her hand had wandered restlessly from the computer up to her face to nervously push away the ever errant strands of hair falling into her eyes. 

"Are you saying you don't believe I did those things? – Because I did do them." 

His voice had sounded bemused when he'd said it, but the expression on his face was unreadable, and she hadn't understood why he'd deliberately made a point of saying it. It was as if he'd been trying to bait her and she'd wondered if he had _wanted _her to think badly of him. 

"I know." She'd finally replied with a note of asperity, "I know what you've done! -But –" suddenly unable to sit still any longer, she'd risen to her feet and moved towards the patio door. "I can only see you the way that I see you," she'd mumbled in a muddled way.

She'd known that had made little since, but it was the only thing she knew to say. 

"And how is it that you see me?" His voice had been soft, coming from right behind her even though she hadn't even heard him move. 

"I see you trying so hard. You always –" her voice had melted away as he'd reached up and stroked the soft tendrils framing either side of her face, his fingers brushing gently against her temples.

"I always what?" he'd prompted. 

Taking a deep breath, she'd tried again. "You've always done what you think is right, no matter what the cost, even when you've half convinced yourself otherwise. Like when I first met you. You helped me, even though it infuriated you to do so. You abhorred all humans and yet you would not let me die, even if it meant putting your own existence at peril. 

"Knowing that you could have died trying to rescue me – knowing that you put my life in front of yours – this did not match the behavior I would have expected from the lord of the Aragami. All the terrible things I had heard about you – they didn't match what I was seeing before me. And despite being faced with the knowledge of all the things you did three years ago I couldn't forget how I'd watched you struggle to save my life. You protected me not once, but twice," Midori had observed, rubbing the scar that ran the length of her hand. "And even though you claimed I was your enemy, it didn't matter, because I was already –" Midori had stopped herself then, realizing she was again on the verge of telling him that she was already in love with him. She'd still been too afraid to say the words.

"You were already what?" he'd prompted softly.

"I was already convinced that you could never be my enemy," she'd replied unsteadily and as she'd finished speaking, Murakumo had disentangled his fingers from her hair, his arms reaching around to encircle her and he'd softly brushed his lips against the top of her head. 

"If that is how you feel, then don't apologize for bringing up the past. I don't want you to be sorry for being able to put aside what I've done. It's because of your ability to see beyond that that I'm here. You inspire me to look for a new future, Midori." He'd loosened his hold on her then, one hand coming back up to stroke the silky top of her head, "So never be sorry for that."

Is he... telling me that - he cares for me!? she remembered thinking. Her heart had been pounding so hard then. And despite being on a crowded subway train, recalling it now made her heart pound almost as hard. 

Aargh… Maybe remembering it wasn't such a good thing though, Midori thought with a grimace. Her stomach was suddenly feeling worse, no doubt due to the surge of blood her heart was putting out as it thumped wildly in her chest.

Midori hung her head and swallowed a groan as the train lurched to a halt at the next subway station. As passengers pressed towards the doors, the lady with her bony elbow advanced once more, right back into Midori's poor ribs. Midori drew her breath in sharply, then wished she hadn't as she got another nose-full of the pungent fish. 

"You poor thing," she heard a soft, warm voice say.

Midori turned her head towards the voice and saw a short, middle aged woman with curly hair staring sympathetically at her.

"I know it's not much," she said quietly, "but why don't you switch places with me? I'm a little closer to the door and the air is a bit fresher over here." 

Midori gave her a grateful smile but started to decline, not wanting to subject such a sweet lady to the elbow wedged against her. "That's awfully kind of you, but I don't think -," 

"Don't you worry about a thing," the kindly woman soothed, her sharp eyes not missing the elbow. "You're being much too polite." She smiled expectantly and took a step toward Midori. 

Midori didn't know how to further decline without sounding ungrateful so after a brief hesitation, she too moved forward and the two women exchanged places. Amazingly, just moving those few feet did make a difference, and she was able to take a deep breath without wanting to gag. Physically she felt so much better, but she couldn't help feeling guilty about switching until she watched the little lady maneuver around for a few moments, blocking the fish woman with her umbrella and her shopping bag so that she was safe from the elbow. After she was securely settled she turned and winked at Midori.

"See? I've got the right kind of armor!"

Midori smiled warmly at her. "Thank you so much." 

The little lady waved it airily away. "I'm glad to do it. I can remember when I was pregnant with my first born – " she reminisced, "- how ill I would get just from the slightest smells."

Midori's smile quickly extinguished itself in a look of alarm.

"Oh, no, ma'am," Midori stuttered in a rush, "I think you've misunderstood. I'm not pregnant. I've just been under feeling under the weather these past few days." Midori's voice faded out but the old woman didn't seem to notice.

"Oh my dear, I'm sorry. My mistake!" the lady cried in embarrassment.

"No, no, it's quite all right," Midori assured in a hollow tone, experiencing a strange icy feeling beginning to trickle through her, "it's a mistake anyone could have made."

Anyone but me, she thought, the cold sensation spreading. _Was it possible? Is that why I feel so ill? _she wondered, her hand coming up to clutch at her throat. The train slowed to a stop once more and Midori forced a smile to her lips.

"Well, this is where I get off," she said in an unsteady voice. Her strained smile stayed in place only long enough for her to wave goodbye and exit the train. As the doors closed behind her and the train started up once again, Midori slowly made her way across the train platform towards the stairs leading out of the station, oblivious to the irritated looks of people bumping into her shoulders as they scurried around her on their way out. 

Concentrating hard, her brow knit into a frown as she mentally tried to calculate when her last period had been. After a few frustrating moments, she gave up. She just couldn't remember. She'd always been irregular, so she never kept close track of when it came. She had medication that was supposed help, but she was usually too lazy and too busy to bother with it and would just usually wait until it came on its own. She'd never had any reason to worry about if and when it finally showed up. Not until now, that is. 

Dear God, came the silent plea, _please don't let it be true._ Her steps suddenly quickened. There was a small pharmacy just outside the station. She would stop and get a pregnancy test, she thought, but with every passing minute the icy dread inside her was intensifying, coalescing into a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, making her feel as if she was being observed. Midori knew it was just her emotions getting the better of her, but she also knew that if she _was _pregnant, she could be in serious trouble. 

Reaching the top of the railway steps, Midori paused and looked up. It was nearly dark. There would be no moon tonight and the TAC had been put on high alert, watching for the return of the Tengugaki. On instinct, she reached into her purse, and pulled out her cell phone, but realized immediately that she couldn't use it. The battery had gone dead. 

After a very short debate, Midori rushed past the pharmacy without stopping. With the coming of night, her safest choice was to get home as quickly as possible. If she wasn't pregnant, then there was nothing to worry about, but if she was – then a pregnancy test wasn't going to matter once it got dark… 

*********************************

"I need your acquisition form please," the TAC storage clerk politely requested.

"Oh yes," Momiji mumbled distractedly, and she slid the piece of paper across the desk, thinking, as she did so, of how glad she would be to get back to the basement where she was shielded from the dark presence of Tengugaki energy. 

Stifling a shiver, she crossed her arms in front of her, wondering how Kusanagi could stand being subjected to such an intensely evil energy for so long without it affecting his ability to think and act coolly when for her, being exposed to it for just a few minutes totally unnerved her.

Unaware of Momiji's preoccupation, the clerk studied her acquisition form for a few seconds and then gave Momiji a puzzled look. "I thought these kinds of ceramic bracelets had been deemed hazardous."

Hmm?... oh, we-e-e-l-l-l… not exactly."

Momiji was slow in responding because she was preoccupied with casting looks over her shoulder to see if there was something lurking down the hall. _There's nothing there, silly, _she told herself firmly. _This is the most secure location in all of Tokyo._ As she turned around to face the clerk, she caught him looking at her strangely and she knew how paranoid her behavior must seem. After a few more surreptitious looks, Momiji finally realized that she was making the clerk uncomfortable, so she deliberately leaned her elbows against the high counter and folded her hands in front of her, making it virtually impossible for her to indulge herself in looking for phantoms that weren't there. 

Pasting what she hoped was a pleasant expression onto her face, she attempted to focus all of her attention into watching as the clerk searched for the correct bin number where the bracelets were housed and cast around for a way to undo the awkward silence her behavior had elicited. 

"You know the bracelets on the acquisition form are not the originals," she remarked, feeling a small spurt of satisfaction at sounding so normal despite the clamoring need to turn around and stare in the other direction... "Ms. Matsudaira had a larger pair made from the specs of the smaller ones. She's done a great deal of quantitative analysis with the data and she's almost certain that they can be used without any detrimental effects – for a fully developed Aragami, that is."

With a feeling of relief, Momiji watched the clerk pull down a small bin and head back over to the counter. Five minutes, tops, and she would be on her way back to the basement where she knew there were no Tengugaki vibes lurking around.

Carefully placing the bin on the counter, the clerk grunted at her comments. "_Almost _certain there'll be no detrimental effects?" he half-snorted. "If it were me, I'd want to be one hundred percent – what if it caused irreversible damage? – I mean, _really _irreversible, like you're your head exploding or something? - It'd be too late afterwards to say 'Oops… guess we should've tested them a bit more, eh?' All I can say is I'm glad I'm not Aragami – speaking of which, who's the unlucky one to get the role of guinea pig? The dark-haired scary looking guy, or Mr. Kusanagi?" He slid a pink sheet of paper towards her. "Sign here, please," he requested while he waited for her to respond to his question. 

Hearing Murakumo being described as scary brought a slight smile to her lips as Momiji scribbled her name across the bottom of the sheet and handed it back to the clerk.

"Kusanagi is the last person in the world to allow himself to be used as a guinea pig; but yes, he's one of the ones that will be using them. He's been working alongside the, erm, 'scary one' who'll be using them as well, and I can almost guarantee that if they haven't made each other's heads explode just from the sheer frustration of having to be together, I doubt the bracelets are going to cause it to happen either. " 

"One can always hope," the clerk sighed and Momiji blinked at his words not quite sure if he meant he hoped that they would or wouldn't explode. She took it to mean the latter when he added, "Wish Mr. Kusanagi good luck for me!" 

"Okay," Momiji replied, as he handed the small plastic bag with the ceramics in it to her. 

She thanked him and bade him farewell, waving over her shoulder as she sped towards the waiting elevator. She quickly stepped onto it, pushing the button for the basement with her free hand, and just as the doors closed, her cell phone rang. Digging into her pocket to retrieve it, she answered it and was surprised by the agitated sound of her best friend's voice.

"Thank god! I was afraid you didn't have your cell phone with you. I called Matsu, but she'd said she'd sent you to retrieve the experimental ceramics."

"What's wrong?" Momiji asked sharply, knowing just from the sound of her friend's voice that something was amiss, belatedly adding, "I just picked them up and I'm on my way back to Matsu now."

"Momiji, I, I need to tell you..." Midori paused in trepidation, and Momiji tensed. "I – I don't know for sure, but I think I might be pregnant."

Momiji felt her face blanch. Her mouth fell open and for one awful moment her brain ceased functioning. 

"You're… you're _late_?" she managed in a hollow voice as she tried to pull herself together.

"Well, I can't really tell – I've never been regular," Midori replied falteringly, "I've gone as long as three months without having a period."

Momiji closed her eyes, and with her fingers she rubbed at the crease forming between her eyes. "But how long has it been since your last one, though?"

"Six weeks," Midori replied heavily. "It's not the longest I've ever gone without having one, but it's long enough for the nausea I've been experiencing to be symptomatic of something besides a stomach virus."

"You're right," Momiji agreed, immediately stepping forward and pressing the button for the lobby.

"M-momiji, what should I do?" The uncertainty in Midori's voice was tempered with fear, and the shadowy form of the Tengugaki which Momiji had feared since she'd left the basement began to coalesce into a reality. 

"Where are you now? Are you at home?" Momiji asked, trying hard to set aside the dark emotions roiling around her insides so she could think.

"Yes. I wasn't sure what I should do. Should I come back to the lab -?" Midori began. 

"No! Don't do that," Momiji urgently advised, "the subway tunnels aren't safe, especially now that there's no moon. When the Tengugaki start to reappear, I'm sure that's one of the first places they'll start showing up."

They seem to favor the tunnels over other areas of the city because of their complete darkness. More than once, Kusanagi and Murakumo had tracked them from the city down into the tunnels and if Midori was pregnant with Murakumo's child, the subway was the last place she needed to be. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and get you," Momiji told Midori quickly as she tucked the ceramic bracelets inside the pocket of her slacks.

There was a pause before Midori spoke again. She didn't want to make things sound worse than they already did, but something prompted her to say, "Please hurry, Momiji. I know it's probably just my imagination, but on the way home from the station, I felt like I was being followed."

"It's not unusual to feel that way when you're scared," Momiji struggled to hearten her as she stepped forward and frantically began jabbing the lobby button as if it would make the elevator go faster. "I'm on my there now and as soon as I get off the phone with you, I'll call for reinforcements. So try not to worry. Everything's going to be okay..."

Midori quietly accepted her words and Momiji heard her draw in her breath, her voice uneven despite her efforts to the contrary as she said, "Keep your cell phone on, Momiji." 

"I will," Momiji replied at once, trying to keep the tone of her voice calm and reassuring. 

She hesitated a long moment before hanging up. It was as if maintaining that connection between them would somehow keep her friend safe. But Momiji didn't have a choice. She needed to sound the alert. She needed to get help. And the two people most capable of helping her at the moment were the most difficult to contact. 

She would have to rely on other members of the TAC and pray that they could find Kusanagi and Murakumo since neither man carried any kind of communication device due to the hazardous distraction that a cell phone or pager might create when they needed their concentration the most. Though it hurt to do so, Momiji finally disconnected from Midori and quickly began dialing Mr. Kunikida's number. He was her best hope of finding the two Aragami men. Even if Mr. Kunikida didn't know where they were, he could probably find them quicker than anyone else since he was at the head of all TAC communications. Before Momiji could finish dialing the number though, her phone started chirping again.

It was Matsudaira with more disturbing news. 

"Momiji, I've just received a report from Mr. Kunikida. He's informed me that Kusanagi is sensing an enormous mass of Tengugaki energy" the scientist began without preamble. "-- Something Yaegashi has just been able to confirm with the TLTS System. At the moment it's all underground, coming towards where they've stationed themselves at Tokyo Bay, just south of the Maihama Train Station. I know the testing hasn't been completed on the bracelets yet, but we need to get them down to the Bay right away. Have you gotten them from back from Containment yet?"

While Matsu was speaking, Momiji had experienced a short lived sensation of relief as she realized that finding Murakumo and Kusanagi was going to be easier than she'd first expected. But it was almost immediately crushed by the urgency of everything else and the knot that had begun to form in Momiji's stomach during her conversation with Midori just expanded to twice the size.

"I'm on the elevator now and I have the bracelets in my pocket–" Momiji began.

"Good. Take them to the front desk in the lobby. Someone from the Ground Defense Force should be arriving shortly to get them."

"We have another problem besides that one," Momiji blurted out. "I need to keep the bracelets -" 

"- That's not an option," Matsu returned abruptly, "I've already been informed that your orders are to stay here where it's safe. I need to call Midori and tell her not to leave her apartment as well. I truly didn't expect things to be happening on such a large scale so quickly. Otherwise I would never have let her go home in the first place -" 

"- Midori thinks she might be pregnant, Matsu," Momiji cut in loudly, trying to override the torrent of Matsu's words.

As soon as Momiji's words penetrated, the line between them went completely silent, and Momiji thought for a moment that she'd lost the connection.

"A-are you still there?"

"Yes – I'm – here," Matsu replied faintly.

"I've got to go and get her, Matsu. She thinks she was followed home from the subway station, and if what you're saying is true, then the Tengugaki will head straight for her! I need you to try and contact Mr. Kunikida and tell him to warn Kusanagi and Murakumo about what's happened –"

"No, Momiji!" Matsu refused adamantly. "You must stay here! Those are direct orders from Mr. Kunikida. You can leave the bracelets at the front desk for the Ground Defense Force. I can call up there right now and tell them there's been a change of plans and have the team member from the Force go and pick up Midori."

"That will take too long!" Momiji argued stubbornly, "I don't want to sit around here waiting for someone knowing that Midori's life could be in danger!"

"Momiji Kusanagi! THESE ARE DIRECT ORD –"

Matsu's strident words were cut off when the phone was jostled out of Momiji's hand as, with a cry of alarm, she lost her footing and went thudding to the ground. She heard the phone skid across the floor and collide with the wall as the elevator jerked to a halt, plunged into darkness as it lost power. After a dazed moment, Momiji slowly clambered to her hands and knees, and, scuttling across the floor, swept around with her fingers, searching for her phone. She found it at about the same time her forehead bashed into the protective metal guard rail that jutted two inches out from the wall. 

Grimacing, with one hand poised over the sharp pain blooming in her forehead, she picked her phone up.

"Matsu?" she called in strangled accents, her voice echoing loudly in the eerie quiet around her. "Matsu, are you there?" There was no response. Momiji pushed the send button on her phone and the lcd panel lit up. It glowed bright blue for about ten seconds before extinguishing itself. "No signal –" she noted, pocketing her phone and scrambling to her feet. "The cell towers must have been affected by the black out." 

She was alone; trapped in an elevator. The darkness around her seemed to pulse like a living thing; and the Tengugaki energy surrounding her pressed in on her. Momiji could feel the cold tendrils of panic begin to tighten its grip on her, overriding what little ability she had left to think. She tried to take a deep breath and regain her self-possession, attempting to push aside the whispering thoughts fed by the darkness around her. _Don't give in! _she yelled at herself. Forcing her body into action, she carefully moved forward, keeping her hands stretched out in front of her until her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the door. _The call box should be to the left_, a steady voice from deep inside advised, you _can use it to get out of here_. Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, she began moving sideways, feeling her way across to the panel of numbered buttons, and then, crouching down, her fingers slid downwards until she felt the outline of the emergency call box. Hurriedly, she fumbled with the latch, yanking it open and grabbing the receiver from inside it to put it to her ear. 

She waited for a moment for the line to connect.

"No!" she cried in frustration when she was met with nothing but continual silence.

Out of order. How could it be out of order!? 

"This is not happening!" she railed. "This is NOT happening!" she shrieked again through clenched teeth, banging the receiver against the side of the elevator in a fit of temper. After a moment, she heard an odd popping sound and then a clatter as the receiver flew apart under her abuse. "NOW it's out of order," she breathed heavily, finally letting it go and listening to it clang against the wall as it dangled from its cord. 

Breaking it didn't help her situation any, but it might help the next person that had a need for it. Maintenance wouldn't be able to ignore its condition now. 

Still struggling to stay on top of her panic, she laced her fingers tightly through the hair on either side of her face, tugging hard as she pushed to her feet, trying to think of what she should do next. Stepping to the middle of the elevator she withdrew her cell phone from her pocket once more and pushed the send button. It was useless for making calls, but the blue display was bright enough to serve as a weak light for a few seconds so that she could see. Holding it up over her head, Momiji surveyed the elevator ceiling and spied the trap door at the back left corner before the light went out. Hitting the send button again, she moved to the back of the elevator and peered upwards, estimating the height and trying to formulate a plan of action. When the light went out, Momiji put it back in her pocket and edged farther into the corner, feeling for the guard rail. 

It was narrow. Not the best of platforms for standing, she dubiously observed. Especially for someone who had never been the athletic type. But this was all that was left for her to try, and she didn't have the luxury of failing; Midori's life depended on her. 

Pivoting to the left, Momiji placed her hands against the guardrails for leverage and pushed herself upwards, trying to find the other guardrails along the conjoined wall with her toes. Pushing and kicking, she tried to climb, but the soles of her shoes were slick and any height she got from her kicks was lost as soon as her feet made contact with the smooth surface of the elevator wall. Twice she surged upwards, painfully catching the back of her heel against the thin metal guard rail and twice the soles of her shoes skidded down the wall. Out of breath, a blunt throbbing at the back of her ankle, Momiji stopped for a moment, her hands shaking as she put them over her eyes.

"Kusanagi," she whispered jerkily, with a burgeoning feeling of desperation. "Please, you have to get there…" 

If she couldn't get out, he would be her only hope. _But he was preoccupied with the trouble that was heading towards Tokyo Bay_, came the tremulous thought, _trapped in a far worse predicament that you are_. And if the regular phone lines were out the same as the power and the cell towers, then there was no assurance that Matsu would be able to get in touch with anyone from the TAC. 

So there was no one else. 

She was the only one. 

And If she didn't find a way to do this, then... 

The image of slimy fangs and red-slitted eyes flashed through her mind and a shudder racked her body, a strangled whimper rising in her throat. 

She couldn't let it come to that. She wouldn't let it come to that, she told herself vehemently. Dropping her hands from her face, she sank to the floor and pulled her shoes off. Hastily discarding them she hurriedly rolled her stockings down and clambered back to her feet, barely aware of the chilled linoleum as she felt for the rails one more time. Pushing hard, she managed to get one foot up on the wall this time and she gave a strained cry of success. 

Because the bottom of her feet were clammy, they didn't slide the way her shoes had, so she was able to press her weight against her leg and raise her other foot slowly without skidding back to the ground. By now, her arms were shaking in an effort to keep her body in its awkward, vertical position, her elbows threatening to buckle as she painstakingly moved her leg higher. 

She held her breath as the strain on her arms became almost unbearable, the blood pounding in her face as she clumsily caught her toe against the opposing guard rail. Then, with a whoosh, she let her breath out as she quickly brought her other foot up to perch against the rail, not quite believing that she'd managed to get all the way off the floor. Huffing and puffing in a vertical crouch, bent at the waist with her rear the highest point of her body, she shifted, backwards, cautiously balancing the majority of her weight onto her feet, taking a few seconds to let the ache in her arms ebb away before trying anything else.

When the burning in her muscles had eased considerably, she leaned forwards again, trying to keep her weight centered as she moved first one hand and then the other from the rail to the wall. Alarmingly, she felt herself begin to wobble, her body in danger of tilting sideways and she jockeyed around, trying to slide her feet apart to keep herself from falling. A few tense seconds later, she managed it, and was able to use her palms to slowly walk herself up to a more upright position. 

Still leaning against the wall, she lifted one arm over her head and felt for the trap door, giving it a firm shove and listening to it clatter against the elevator roof as she managed to dislodge it. A giddy laugh bubbled up inside her. _I've done it! I've actually done it_! she thought in elation. Pulling herself up out of the elevator cabin was relatively easy in comparison to standing on the guard rails inside, but she still felt the need to rest a moment as she crawled onto the dusty roof. Sitting back on her heels, Momiji wiped the back of her hand against her brow which had become damp with perspiration and then reached into her pocket for her phone. 

Hitting the send button, she held it out in front of her, the blue light feebly illuminating the maintenance ladder in the narrow channel to the left of the main elevator shaft. 

"Piece of cake," she muttered, still sweating and breathless. 

Slowly getting to her feet and activating the light on her phone one more time to help her find her way, she trekked cautiously across the elevator roof, curling her toes in disgust every time she felt the crunch of old, dried-up bugs beneath her feet as she edged towards the ladder. With what felt like an inch of bug-guts stuck to her feet, she finally swung herself onto the cold iron rungs that scaled the wall. With a feeling of revulsion, she scraped her feet against the metal as she tried to dislodge all the little pieces, wishing that she had had the foresight to tuck her shoes into her pockets.

– Not that they would have fit, she thought wryly, giving up after a few seconds when most of the pieces refused to come off. Knowing that she didn't have time to be squeamish, she wrapped her fingers more securely around the rungs and carefully made her way down the dark ladder, feeling relieved when she felt cold concrete beneath her feet. Turning in a slow circle with her phone held out in front of her, Momiji found the outer elevator doors to her right and a steel hinged door to her left. She didn't know if she had the strength to pry open the elevator doors, and thankfully, she wasn't going to have to try because the door to the left was unlocked. 

Yanking it open, she went through it and pulled up short in the pitch blackness that met her, unsure of where she was now. Her little blue light didn't illuminate anything but a concrete floor in the few feet surrounding her and it took her a moment to realize that she was in the parking garage instead of the emergency stairwell to the lobby where she thought the maintenance door would lead. 

But this is good, she told herself. Better than the lobby, because this was just exactly where she wanted to be. The TAC's mobile unit was down here, and it should have just about anything she might need in it – including a spare set of keys to start it. It took her a few moments to locate the white van, stumbling around in the dark with just her phone light to guide her. It took her a few minutes more once she got inside to locate the keys which where stashed above the driver's side visor. She didn't remember jamming the keys into the ignition or starting the van, but before she knew it, she found herself outside on the street and –

Stuck.

Traffic had come to a complete standstill due to the fact that all the traffic lights weren't working. Pounding on the steering wheel, she yelled in frustration. She didn't have time for this!! Unbuckling her seatbelt, she ducked into the back of the van and rummaged around. There was a case of hand grenades – which were of absolutely no use to her - a flare gun with four extra flares, some electronic equipment including a two way radio and a nine millimeter handgun with six extra clips. Momiji hurriedly grabbed up the radio, clipping it to her belt, even though she wasn't sure if she would have a use for it, and then shoved the flare gun and nine millimeter in the waistband of her pants, before scooping up the extra flares and clips and stashing them in her pockets. Returning to the driver seat, she maneuvered the van to the curbside, pulled the keys from the ignition, locked the van up and then scrambled out. 

Even though the buildings around her were all dark, the streets were well lit by the headlights of the cars lining the avenues and she was able to begin jogging along the sidewalk looking for a bike without fear of smacking into a signpost or lamppost. But Momiji hadn't been the only one to abandon her car, and as she continued to move forward, she realized that she wasn't the only one looking for a bike either – any bike not chained down – and probably some that were – had already been taken by stranded motorists or those that they belonged to. 

Still Momiji refused to give up and she kept looking, dodging around the people milling in confusion along the sidewalks. The sound of intermittent car horns punctuated their speculation as to what could have caused such a widespread black out, but Momiji didn't need to speculate; already knew, deep inside terrified that one of the ones responsible for the darkness was already skulking along the streets, heading, unimpeded, in the same direction that she was trying to go, it's slimy fangs bared, eager to attain the hybrid child that no one had known about. This thought alone kept Momiji moving, even when the bottom of her feet began to throb from the pounding they were taking and her lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen. But try as she might, she knew she couldn't keep running when a few minutes later, a stitch developed in her side as she struggled to draw air into her lungs, and her pace became staggered, her muscles tightening painfully, refusing to work any longer.

"I'm – I'm not going to – make it," she gasped, her desperation to get to Midori becoming tinged with despair. 

Then she saw him - the biker from hell – and she knew she couldn't have asked for a more timely gift from heaven.

He was sitting in traffic, his tangled, greasy hair falling around a weather beaten face on which was carved a stoned expression. What parts of his body that weren't covered in leather were tattooed, pierced or adorned with spiked jewelry and had circumstance been different, she would never have considered approaching him since he looked capable of ripping her to pieces and picking his teeth with her bones. But circumstances demanded desperation, and desperation is what she felt. It was what drove her to make a beeline directly towards this hell's angel, and what made her open her mouth to brazenly engage him in conversation.

"Can I borrow your bike?" she panted, still having trouble catching her breath.

The biker looked blankly at her, the halogen lights of the cars around them bouncing off the thin circles of gold adorning his ears, nose and bottom lip. "What?" he asked, giving her an incredulous look.

"Your bike," Momiji repeated, her finger pointing to the handlebars, "can I borrow it?"

The last part of her question was drowned out by his raucous laughter and he twisted his wrist, revving up the bike's engine. 

"That's what I thought you said," he smirked and then, with a nasty look, he sneered, "Get lost, bitch!" 

His sneer didn't last long, however, as she whipped out the nine millimeter from her waistband and held it in front of his nose. His bloodshot eyes rounded in alarm, swinging from the barrel to the determined glint in her eye.

"I'm sorry," Momiji mouthed politely, "but that's not the answer I need."

The look of alarm remained for a few more seconds before it wavered and his eyes narrowed, hardening again. 

"You don't look like the kind of chick capable of pulling that trigger," he jeered.

"You would be surprised of what I'm capable of when pushed, mister," Momiji said tartly. "I may not shoot you," she retorted, swinging the gun away from his face and aiming it towards the bike, "but I have no problems with shooting your bike if you won't let me use it." The biker just stared at her in a dazed way and so she added, "look, I really need it – if you won't lend it to me, at least give me a ride – I'll make it worth your while –" she bargained, "Sixty thousand yen."

The man's mouth fell open for a second and then snapped shut as he eyed her cynically. "Let me see the money," he told her.

"I – I don't have it with me," she said hesitantly, the gun still pointed towards the bike, "but I can get it – "

"Sure you can, sweetheart," he agreed sarcastically. 

"I work for the government," Momiji interrupted him, pulling the TAC badge free from her shirt where it was clipped and waving it towards him, "and this is a government emergency. Believe me, I can get it." she reiterated confidently, her gaze remaining fixed on the man's face as he took the badge from her and looked at it, shooting her a speculative look before handing it back to her. _Please, please, please,_ she silently begged him while he debated and then held her breath when he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Make it a hundred thousand and you've got yourself a deal."

"Done!" Momiji cried, tucking the gun back into its hiding place and reattaching her badge.

"Well climb on," the man said and waited for Momiji to comply. 

Momiji clumsily clambered onto the back of the bike, grabbed the rear part of the seat to brace herself and then said, "Okay, go!"

But the biker didn't go.

"You're gonna have to put your arms around me, missy, unless you wanna fall off once we get going," he threw over his shoulder at her.

She already knew this, having ridden many, many times on the back of Kusanagi's bike, but in this case, it was something she had been hoping to avoid.

"Oh… O - okay," Momiji replied reluctantly, dubiously eyeing the expanse of black leather that stretched across the biker's back. It was scarred with age and looked none too clean, which wasn't surprising considering the smell that was coming from him. Feeling more than a little strange to be wrapping her arms around the waist of a man other than her husband, Momiji finally breathed in a choked voice, "Okay, I'm ready," as she tried not to get a good whiff of him.

The biker nodded briefly and then revved the bike's engine, nudging his way out of traffic and onto the sidewalk before asking, "So where are we heading?" 

"Towards Ichigaya Station," Momiji yelled to him over the hum of the engine, and then quietly to herself, "hang on, Midori, I'm coming as fast as I can."


	43. 42: Unwilling Sacrifice

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

"Damn!" Kusanagi growled, jerking sideways and reeling around as he felt claws rake down the middle of his back. Lunging, his blade tore through the upper torso of the Tengugaki responsible for his bleeding back and a raucous death shriek filled the air.

"Murakumo! To the left! To the left!" he strove to shout over the shrill cry piercing his ears. But his warning came too late and he watched as another Tengugaki's claws shredded the fabric of his comrade's shirt, slicing into Murakumo's flank before he could evade it. 

Murakumo's retaliation was more accurate and even swifter, but Kusanagi didn't have the time or attention to spare watching it. He was already busy plowing through the wall of foul smelling slime-covered flesh surrounding him, bright flashes of orange exploding in the periphery of his vision as Kome and the TAC team tried to lend assistance with their artillery fire.

"Damn!" he swore again, realizing he wasn't making any headway. These Tengugaki were exceptionally weak, but they swarmed around him like bees in a hive. "That way! To the right!" he shouted again in Murakumo's direction, broadly waving his arm as he flitted towards the next power sub-station. "They're after that!"

"Why the hell would they bother?" Murakumo hissed, quickly joining Kusanagi, his face and chest spattered with dark, rancid smelling blood. "They've already got the city completely crippled in the way of power. Those power grids aren't even for the main part of the city – " 

"They're trying to make us more vulnerable," Kusanagi replied, his voice becoming strained as he lurched forward to cut a swath through three Tengugaki that rose to impede his progress.

"I'm aware of that, you imbecile!" Murakumo gritted out as he swept up behind Kusanagi, his own sword impaling a Tengugaki bent on attacking Kusanagi's back. "My point is, why now? They're extremely weak. I've lost count of the number of these beasts that I've killed already. Why are they eagerly rushing to meet us when they know they can't win? I would have thought they would be looking for human targets, not strategic ones - doesn't human flesh give them power?"

"Yeah, you're right," Kusanagi agreed grimly, recoiling slightly as one of the artillery shells exploded just a little too close to where he and Murakumo were. "There are a lot of these bastards, but not one of them has the power of Tamanasu. Something about this isn't right."

"Have you sensed him?" Murakumo demanded, dodging around several Tengugaki that were rushing rapidly towards them.

Kusanagi helped Murakumo dispatch them before he replied, "Are you kidding? There's just too damn many of them!"

Another artillery shell exploded close to them, this one sending them scrambling for cover when they heard the telltale whine of it as it closed in on their position.

"What the hell!?" Murakumo breathed furiously, his grey eyes scanning the barricaded defense line the Ground Defense Force had erected several hundred yards away. "Don't they know how to aim!?" 

Before Kusanagi could respond, they heard the whistling of another incoming shell and both of them bounded into the air knowing that this one was even closer than the last. The ground where they had been standing just a split second before erupted in a bright orange billow of sparks and flame, illuminating the sickly yellowish brown flesh of the Tengugaki that writhed beneath its searing heat before they were enveloped, incinerated completely. Head bowed, his eyes burning from the intense heat rising from the ground, Kusanagi impassively surveyed the crater made by the Anti-tank missile before he swiveled his attention towards the defense line, his eyes narrowing as he sought out the vivid red hair of the member of the TAC he felt sure was responsible. 

It wasn't hard to spot her. She was hopping up and down, her arms waving madly, and Kusanagi's mouth fell open as he saw her shake her fist at him. 

What's she mad at me for!? he thought in irritation. 

For his part, Murakumo was still fuming, his eyes trained on the swarm of Tengugaki below them that were converging on the next substation.

"I can't decide what's worse, the free flowing sewage below us," he muttered darkly as he watched the Tengugaki begin to break through the electrical fence surrounding the generators, "or the human incompetence sitting over there." His attention swiveled in the direction of the TAC.

"I don't think it's human incompetence," Kusanagi replied slowly, "I think Kome had every intention of firing exactly where she did."

Murakumo snorted and began muttering a long string of curses under his breath which Kusanagi ignored.

"There's nothing more we can do here to keep them from taking out that station," Kusanagi remarked. "And besides that, I think we're being paged." He jerked his head in the defense line's direction, and without waiting to see if Murakumo would follow him, he began flitting through the air in their direction. 

Before he even got his feet on the ground, Kome was bounding forward, her blue eyes full of fire and her teeth bared in a snarl.

"-complete _idiots_!" she raged. Kusanagi missed the first part of her sentence, but he felt no remorse since it probably ran along the same vein as the last part. "I thought I was going to have to actually blow you to smithereens! -"

"Kome! –" Kunikida called from his position by an armored vehicle where he stood clutching a satellite telephone, but she ignored him.

"- before you finally started paying attention!" she continued to storm, crowding closer to Kusanagi, looking like she was getting ready to try and punch him.

"Sorry," Kusanagi inserted scathingly, folding his arms across his chest, "but I was a little _BUSY!"_

"That's no excuse, fly boy!" she hissed, "You should always be aware of what's going on around you -!"

"We were, you overzealous gun nut!" he shouted back, "We were trying to keep the enemy from taking out that substation!" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder without turning to look around, "and we _might _have succeeded if you hadn't tried to blow our brains out! But it's too late, now, thanks to your happy trigger finger!" 

"Kome! Kusanagi! Cut it out, you two!" Kunikida yelled again, hurriedly striding towards them, grabbing the red-head by the arm to swing her away from Kusanagi who was beginning to look like he might punch Kome as well. "That's enough!" he reproved gruffly, shooting each of them a warning look before letting his gaze settle on Kusanagi. "She was trying to get your attention on my command," he said brusquely, his eyes sliding from Kusanagi's face to gaze somewhere over his shoulder where, Kusanagi assumed, Murakumo was standing. "Even with all of our artillery power and despite your and Murakumo's help, there's no way that we can stop them from destroying the generators. For every ten you kill, the TLTS shows fifteen more welling up out of the earth to take their place… and now there's a more immediate problem that takes precedence over this." Kusanagi raised his eyebrows attempting to think of what could be more important than trying to stem the rising tide of Tengugaki, but Kunikida didn't give him any time to ponder it. "Despite my leaving orders to the contrary, Momiji's left the lab," the older man informed him heavily.

"What!!? When!?" Kusanagi demanded with a dark scowl, feeling panic and anger well up inside of him.

"It's hard to say," Kunikida replied. "The last time Matsudaira talked to Momiji, she was trapped in an elevator, which was just under forty five minutes ago. Momiji was supposed to be on her way back to the basement, but she'd already told Matsu that she was leaving. Before Matsu could stop her, they lost power. By the time Matsudaira located a satellite transceiver with which to contact me and sent someone to try and rescue Momiji, she'd already managed to escape from the elevator."

"The little fool!" Kusanagi's voice throbbed with fury at his wife's recklessness. "Doesn't she know how dangerous it is right now?"

"I believe she does," Kunikida replied solemnly, "which is why she refused to stay put – deciding to go after Midori herself –" 

"Wait - why would she go after Midori?" Kusanagi asked sharply, somehow knowing that he wasn't going to like the answer. 

Kunikida hesitated, and something in his face made Kusanagi's insides twist. "-because Midori thinks she's pregnant."

Kusanagi was stunned into silence and after less than a heartbeat's pause his head jerked around, his eyes focusing on the silent, cold expression of Murakumo. Murakumo never looked at him, his eyes remained steadily fixed on Kunikida as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. And then, without a word he disappeared. Kusanagi glanced briefly at Kunikida.

"Why?" he asked in an embittered voice, "Why didn't I sense the Aragami energy!?" Why didn't I know!?" 

"Perhaps it was too faint to sense," Kunikida ventured slowly, "perhaps the parasitic nature of the Tengugaki heightens their sense of awareness and that's how they knew about it, even before you could sense it…"

"I can't believe it," Kusanagi replied with suppressed rage, angry at himself for not being able to sense what was happening and stop it. "All of this was - a diversion."

Kunikida didn't say anything, a heavy frown making his face sag as he stared at Kusanagi, a curt nod of his head the only sign that he had heard what the younger man had said. Turning away in disgust, Kusanagi took off after Murakumo, heading towards Midori's apartment, his mind twisting and turning through dark thoughts and emotions as he weaved in and out of tall Tokyo office buildings. 

What a fool he had been! he thought bitterly. The power station had never been their target; it had been Midori all along! Tamanasu had sensed the Aragami energy she carried within her. Since Noa's energy was being shielded, Kusanagi realized that Tamanasu must have known that the humans weren't aware of this other hybrid. Otherwise, it would have been shielded from detection the same as Noa. Now Kusanagi understood why there had been so many Tengugaki at the Bay and why they had been so weak. Why waste power chasing down victims when all they really wanted was the hybrid? And what about Momiji? If she was with Midori right now, then Tamanasu would have both the hybrid and the Kushinada.

The little fool! Thinking about his wife made his insides tighten even more in fear. Silently he castigated Momiji for not staying put where it was safe. He urged his body to go faster, but he was already pushing himself to his limits, traveling as fast as he could, the darkened city below him passing in a blur, and after a few long minutes, Kusanagi realized that he wasn't far from Midori's apartment now. He still hadn't spotted Murakumo, but for once, the race wasn't to catch up with the surly lord. It was to see if one of them could get to Midori before Tamanasu did. 

Two more blocks and he would be there. Putting his head down, he skimmed along the tops of the buildings, scanning the streets for Tengugaki and any sign of his wife and Midori. "Please be safe," he whispered over and over, the tension in his body close to the breaking point.

Momiji squealed in alarm as she felt the motorcycle tip precariously sideways when the hell's angel cut sharply down one alley into the next. Instinctively her left arm tightened around his waist to keep herself from falling off and she tried to steady her right arm which she held stiffly out to the side, the nine millimeter clutched in her hand.

"Shoot! _Shoot! SHOOT! DAMMIT!"_ he screamed as he watched another skeletal figure emerge from the shadows of a dumpster they'd just passed and come tearing towards them.

"Now! _Now! NOW! WOMAN!"_ he screamed again, flinching as the creature got nearer and nearer to them, so near in fact that he could hear it's rattled breathing over the sound of the motorcycle's engine.

The creature extended an emaciated arm, its long, sharp claws sweeping towards the biker's head. BANG! BANG! There was a horrendous sound and the slimy figure was thrown backwards as the bullets from Momiji's gun hit it squarely in the head, where it lay, unmoving, like the three other ones she'd shot.

"Dammit! _Dammit! DAMMIT!"_ the biker roared. "I thought you said you were with the government!"

"I am," Momiji replied shakily, the hand still holding her gun out to the side trembling even more than her voice as she moved her head from the left to the right, scanning the streets for more Tengugaki. 

"Then why are you such a LOUSY SHOT!?" he screeched at her over the sound of the engine.

"I hit them didn't I?" Momiji retorted, trying to keep the terror out of her voice, knowing it would only make the biker even more fractious.

"Yeah, but not until they were ready to sit in my lap!" he snarled again, slowing the bike down as he got ready to enter a crowded main street to cross over into the next alley.

"You're right," Momiji admitted curtly, "I AM a lousy shot, so you should be thankful that I managed to get them before they got us. I can't afford to waste my bullets, so I have to let them get close enough that I won't miss."

"Damn! Here comes another one from the left!" The biker warned as he got ready to maneuver the bike across the sidewalk into the street, "I can't go any faster because of all the people here and I can't dodge it and all the cars in the street at the same time, so if you don't hurry up and shoot the bloody thing, it's going to catch up with us!"

Momiji quickly switched hands, almost dropping the gun as her sweaty fingers bungled it trying to get a better grasp on the trigger. 

"Oh My God! _Oh My God! OH – MY - GAWD!!"_ the biker shouted, his eyes bulging as he got a good close up view of blood soaked fangs and red-slitted eyes. 

BANG!

One bullet this time, and he felt something spatter against his face and neck, something that had such an atrocious smell to it, it made him want to vomit.

"Damn!" he heard Momiji say lowly, a thread of hysteria in her voice.

Alarmed he threw a quick sideways glance at her over his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he yelled over the engine.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," she assured him in a tight voice, "just keep driving. We're almost there."

But she wasn't fine. She was almost sure that her left arm was broken. That last Tengugaki had had a tail, she thought grimly. It had used it like a whip, bringing it around to strike her just at about the time she had fired her gun. Luckily, the tail's aim veered off, missing her body at the last second, but it had slammed into her arm and she had felt something snap as a searing pain shot through her arm from wrist to elbow. Gingerly she reached around the front of the biker's waist and transferred the gun to her right hand, trying to maintain her hold on the biker and the gun at the same time with just one hand. 

Momiji tried flexing her fingers and bit her tongue to keep from crying out. Her left hand was going to be useless. She could only pray that there would be no further attacks from their left side. 

"Hey," the biker called gruffly to her, "don't you think you're holding that gun a little… close?"

Momiji hesitated briefly before answering. She didn't think it was such a good idea to tell him that she thought she'd broken her arm.

"It's okay. I know what I'm doing."

She'd tried to sound reassuring, but her efforts were far from convincing and it came as no shock when, once the biker cleared the traffic on the street and headed into the mouth of the next alleyway, he turned once more and threw another look over his shoulder, his beady eyes bright with suspicion at how pallid her countenance was.

"Once we've come to the end of this alley, it's down the next street on the right," she told him, glad that they were almost there now, and terrified at the same time. She was beginning to sense an overwhelming energy that she'd felt before, one that she knew belonged to the Tengugaki responsible for the death of her sister and the mother of Noa, but she couldn't tell how close it was because of the general level of "noise" of all the rest of the Tengugaki energy. 

Without a word, the biker turned back around and concentrated on driving, which left her eyes free to scour the shadows for the enemy and her thoughts free to dwell in even darker areas. 

What if the Tengugaki they'd run across so far were a kind of advanced guard? What if Tamanasu had sent them to keep the humans distracted? Did that mean he'd already gotten to Midori? 

No! She couldn't think like that! She had to stay positive no matter what! It hadn't been dark that long and she was sure that before Tamanasu closed in on Midori, he would want to gather his energy. That meant he would have to hunt which would take time, so there was still a very good chance that he wasn't here yet, she told herself, trying to hang on to every little bit of hope she could. 

But even the stalwart voice that told her not to give up grew quiet when she felt the bike tilt to the right and with a great sinking sensation Momiji realized that they were almost there. She looked ahead as they weaved in and out of pedestrians along the sidewalk and saw that there were a few policemen surrounding the doorman who stood on the pavement in front of Midori's apartment building's entrance.

"That's it over there, where the crowd is," Momiji told the biker in a tight voice. "I – I'm really sorry for all the trouble," she mumbled as they slowed to a stop about ten feet from the entrance. "And I just want to th-thank you again. If it hadn't been for you, I would have never made it here."

"Yeah well, if it hadn't been for you, I might have been able to use this jacket another year or two," he retorted, and as he braked, he reached out and tweaked his collar so that he could give it a loud sniff and examine the dark foul smelling debris littering it. "Whatever's inside those ugly buggers has a really nasty smell."

"Ah, well, I don't think I can take _all_ the credit for ruining your jacket," Momiji replied, adding under her breath, "Besides, I'm not so sure that what you smell wasn't already cured into the leather just from age alone." 

Now that they were completely stopped, she slowly clambered off the back of the bike and turned to face him, dread etched in every line of her body as she said, "Look on the bright side; at least you'll have something on which to spend the 100,000 yen I'm giving you." 

The corner of the biker's lip curled upward and he snorted, "What's so bright about that? You haven't given it to me yet."

Holding her left arm across her chest, Momiji unobtrusively tucked her nine millimeter back into her waistband and turned to survey the small crowd around the apartment building door. _How long had they been here? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Had something happened inside? Is that why they were here?_ The thought occurred to her that perhaps they were just here because of the blackout but even so, Tamanasu's energy seemed to press more heavily upon her and she knew she needed to be on her way inside this very minute. 

"I may not have it to give right now," Momiji replied, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, most of her attention focused on trying to find a way of getting past the policemen whom she felt sure would try to stop her, "but I'm good for it."

"Sure you are, missy," he growled gruffly, his eyes not missing the way that she cradled her arm against her body, nor her total preoccupation with whatever seemed to be bothering her. "Maybe I should accompany you the rest of the way – wherever it is that you're going – so as to make sure that you make good on your debt."

Momiji's head whipped back around then, giving him her full attention as she realized he was about to get off his bike, and she rushed to say, "Oh, no, no! I couldn't ask you to do that – you really have no idea – and I can't begin to tell you – that is – this is official government business, so it's top secret. If they knew I'd let you follow me, I'd have to kill you."

"Like you haven't already tried that," he sniffed, looking pointedly at the blood on his jacket and then assuming a bored expression, adding, "but whatever -" 

"Just give me your name and address, and I'll make sure that you get your hundred thousand yen," Momiji said.

"Futeki," the biker replied in clipped tones, "Banjirou Futeki." Momiji nodded her head and repeated his named, trying to burn it into her memory, but she should have just saved the effort because he got off his bike anyway, saying coolly, "But it doesn't really matter what my name is, because I'm coming with you."

"Look, I know how important it is for you to get this money," Momiji's voice took on an edge as she spoke, knowing at this point that every second was precious, "and I know that you don't exactly trust me –"

"Don't take it personally, missy," he drawled, "I don't trust anybody."

"I'm not taking it personally, Mr. Futeki, believe me I'm not," Momiji replied, trying to hang on to her calm demeanor, "but what I am taking seriously is the possibility that inside that building over there," she jabbed her right index finger at the policemen, "are more of those creatures waiting for a chance to expel their body fluids onto your jacket, or worse, ingest you _and _your jacket should my aim go awry, which it most likely will." 

She stared unblinking up into his rough hewn face, trying to make him understand that what was going on wasn't a game. 

"What you saw on the way here was nothing compared to what I know those creatures can do. Believe me, you will be happier and much, much safer by not going. If I had my choice, I wouldn't be going either, but" here she paused and said in a numb way, "the alternative is unthinkable." 

Reaching down, she unclipped the radio from her belt and held it out to him. "Here," she offered, "this is a way for you to contact me. Leave the transceiver on this channel and I swear to you," she vehemently vowed, "that as soon as I am done here, I will get you your money. And if –something… happens, and - you don't hear from me; then take this down to the Terrestrial Administration Office, and ask for Mr. Yaegashi or Ms. Matsudaira." 

She turned the radio over and pointed to the serial number on the back and said, "They'll be able to pull the registration on it and they'll know it's one of ours. They'll also know that you couldn't have gotten this just anywhere and you can tell them about our bargain and they will make sure you get paid."

Mr. Futeki glanced down at the radio, an insulted look sitting rather awkwardly upon his features as if it was not used to being there. Muttering darkly under his breath he snatched the radio from her fingers, shooting her a nasty look.

"I'm not exactly the type of person that has a lot of credibility with government type folks," he pointed out. "They'll just think I stole it."

"No they won't," Momiji simply said, already turning away from him and preparing to walk away. "They'll believe you – they've seen too many strange things not to believe you. – Well, I'll be seeing you, then," she raised her hand in a farewell salute and turned her back to him, walking slowly towards the front door, praying that she could get inside without too much of a fuss.

But just as soon as the doorman saw her approaching, she knew that was going to be an impossibility. He broke off what he was saying to one of the policemen, who in turn, swung around to look at her.

"Excuse me miss," the policeman said, detaching himself from the group in front of the door, "can I help you?"

Momiji hadn't planned on stopping, but she had no choice when he placed a detaining hand on her upper arm.

Reluctantly she slowed and tried to pin a polite expression on her face. "Is there a problem, officer, sir?" she asked, trying to sidestep his question and find out more about why they were here.

"We've had to evacuate the building, so you can't go inside," he told her.

Momiji looked at the doors and then back at him, "So everyone that was inside has been evacuated? Was there a fire or something?"

"Not everyone, and no, no fire."

"Well, I need to get inside," Momiji told him, and she pulled her badge from her shirt and briefly held it out so that the officer could see it. "One of my colleagues lives here. We are currently investigating the cause of the, er, blackout, and the lack of communications throughout the city and her expertise is required."

The officer shined his flashlight on the badge and then on her face, matching the face with the picture. Seemingly satisfied, he turned his flashlight back off but said in an officially brusque tone, "I'm sorry, but you still can't go inside. It's been classified as hazardous –"

"But I have to get inside!" Momiji interrupted him, her voice going up a level or two before she could stop it. "She is essential to resolving this situation!" 

She tried to sidestep the policeman which was a mistake. The other policemen had been watching their exchange and at her sudden movement they converged on them.

"I'm sorry, miss, but we've had four casualties already and we can't let you inside!" the officer said firmly, attempting to take her by the arm while she tried to evade his grasp. "The area still hasn't been secured!"

"Secured!?" Momiji almost shouted, "Secured from what?" shei demanded a little wildly, although she didn't need an answer because she already knew. 

"Miss –" another of the officers began appeasingly, but he was interrupted by another newcomer, one that was dressed all in leather and reeked strongly of a foul odor.

"Masaki! Damn I knew it was you!" he growled, darting around the officers crowding around Momiji and heading straight for the doorman now standing all alone. 

The doorman lifted his own flashlight and let its beam illuminate Mr. Futeki's face and then just as quickly lowered it, perhaps frightened by the wild scowl he saw there. 

"Where's my money, you lying bastard!" Mr. Futeki shouted at him, 

The doorman glanced over his shoulder to see who the biker was talking to and when he spotted no one, he quickly jerked back around looking both alarmed and bewildered to see such a ferocious looking man bearing down upon him. 

"Looks like you've got yourself a cushy, new job, Masaki, so those old excuses won't work anymore. You'd better pay up!" he threatened, "Six hundred thousand yen, or else!" 

The doorman held his hands up placatingly in front of himself, still clutching the flashlight.

"Now see here, sir," he began in a wavering way, "I, I think you've mistaken me for someone else –"

"No mistake, Masaki," the biker leered, slapping the flashlight out of his hand so that it skittered across the sidewalk until it hit the glass door behind him. "The only mistake was my lending that money to you in the first place! That's the last time I cover a gambling bet for you!"

He grabbed the doorman by the collar, who was truly looking terrified now.

"Uh, uh, help!" he called feebly, looking desperately over at the policemen, finally managing to get the word out in a stronger voice. "HELP!"

All activity between Momiji and the policemen had ceased as they watched the biker and the doorman. But when Mr. Futeki had grabbed the doorman, the policemen surrounding her were once again galvanized into action, rushing over to end the altercation. Momiji didn't wait to see what happened. Moving as quickly and as quietly as she could, she slid past the loud group, picking up the doorman's flashlight as she went.

Looking back over her shoulder, she caught the biker's eye as the policemen pressed him up against the wall to frisk him, and wasn't surprised to see him give her a slight nod

"Thank you again, Mr. Futeki," she whispered silently, raising her hand once more before turning away and moving further into the darkened building. 

Turning on her flashlight, Momiji dashed across the lobby, heading towards the stairwell. Opening the door, she stepped inside and began clambering up the steps, stopping dead, her heart freezing in the middle of her chest as she passed the second floor door. 

She could hear human screams of terror, cries that became drowned out by the roar of the Tengugaki. Breaking out in a cold sweat, Momiji turned off the flashlight and pulled out her gun. The darkness of the stairwell pressed in on her with suffocating blankness, but she was more afraid to use the light, than to be without it, afraid that the Tengugaki would see it through the small, square glass window that was inset into each emergency door and that they would come to investigate. 

She had actually reached for the handle to the door before she stopped herself. As much as she wanted to help the person in trouble, she couldn't. She had to focus on getting to Midori – if there were Tengugaki already up on Midori's floor then even more lives would be lost – lives that remained protected as long as the Tengugaki were denied the key to their freedom. 

Slowly, Momiji deliberately pulled her hand back, her eyes clenched in agony as the screams died away 

Breathing fast, she leaned weakly against the door.

"Forgive me," she whispered, placing her fingers against the door, allowing herself to mourn the loss of life but only for a few short seconds before forcing herself to move on.

Straightening, Momiji kept her hand on the wall, running it lightly along the cool cement to guide her as she began climbing again, moving much slower this time, much more stealthily to try and keep her presence undetected even though every nerve in her body screamed for her to run, to reach Midori as soon as possible. With every step she took, she could feel the presence of the one Tengugaki she'd feared the most grow, overshadowing all the others.

He's here, came an anguished voice from deep inside her. _He's already here. _

Was she too late?

Midori huddled near the sliding glass door of her patio, hugging her knees which were drawn up to her chest, her useless phone lying on the floor next to her. She started and cringed when she heard the sound of smashing glass from outside, followed by a loud car alarm. It sounded like pandemonium was breaking out in the streets. But still, she would have preferred that over her current situation.

Sitting here, waiting for something to happen was almost more than she could bear. If she hadn't known that Momiji was on her way here, then Midori would have fled the building when the power had gone out. It was too much like the sheep waiting for the wolf to come and devour it, she reflected, and then, another sound broke through her thoughts, this one more jarring than the last because it was closer – right across the room from her: the groan of a metal door being stressed beyond its endurance.

Midori swallowed convulsively and then muttered, "And here's the wolf," as she rose numbly to her feet. 

Somehow she wasn't surprised. She'd known they would come, but still, she'd hoped… _But it just wasn't meant to be_, came the fatalistic thought.

Drawing in a deep breath, she turned and slid the glass door open, slipping outside as, behind her, she heard her front door begin to give way. There was no time to lose. Hurriedly she crossed the patio, keeping her eyes trained on the wrought iron railing. When she'd been sitting in the darkness, contemplating what she should do when this moment finally arrived, she knew that this was the only way to keep the Tengugaki from winning, and she'd tried to prepare herself for the fear. 

The only way. A phrase without exception, an unbending, unfaltering conclusion yet one that was rife with regret.

With a thundering heart, she reached out and pulled herself up over the railing, swiveling first her left leg and then her right, until she was standing on the almost nonexistent ledge that separated her from thin air.

The only way.

She looked down, her fingers convulsively tightening against the cold metal rail as her eyes skimmed the lights of the traffic from below and a light breeze feathered her bangs away from her brow.

To save you the only way I know how, she thought, her heart trying to protect the small spark of life sleeping inside of her. _This is the only way._

She made herself let go of the railing, her face twisting in sadness as Murakumo's visage rose before her eyes and her body swayed forward as she began to fall.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered brokenly, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms protectively around herself as she felt the air pass swiftly around her body.

And then it was over, even before it began. A terrible wrenching pain around her ankle that shot up her shin as her descent downwards came to an abrupt halt. As the pain intensified, Midori's eyes jerked open, flying to where the pain originated and she saw a slimy hand wrapped tightly around her ankle. Horrified, her eyes trailed up the grotesquely elongated arm back to the balcony fifteen feet above her where red-slitted eyes peered triumphantly over the railing at her as the Tengugaki slowly pulled her up. Why had it not occurred to her that he would have similar powers as Kusanagi? Too late, she remembered the ability to stretch and modify limbs was a classic Aragami trait.

Her slow ascent didn't stop until her eyes were level with the Tengugaki's terrible face and there was nothing she could do to stop him when his other hand snaked out, wrapping around her neck and turning her upright. With a rattling laugh, he carried her across the balcony, highly amused by her useless struggles to free herself. Once inside the threshold of the doorway, his face stretched into a brutal smile and he slammed her up against the wall. Midori cried out, and her grimace of pain fed the twisted pleasure burning in his eyes.

"What a clever little human," he applauded her mockingly, "to know that I was coming for you. - But not -" he murmured, feigning regret, "- clever enough it seems. Your little suicide attempt failed. - But don't worry," he told her, bringing his face closer to hers so that his fetid breath made her choke. "When I have what I want from you, I'll make sure to finish the job for you."

"No!" Midori whimpered, clawing at the talons encircling her neck when she felt him press the mitama nestled in the palm of his hand against her lower abdomen and she felt pain twist through her. "NO!" she screamed again, raising her feet to try and push him away but to no avail.

As the pain intensified, she felt a trickle of warmth down the inside of her leg and she knew that she was losing her baby.

"Stop, stop!" she sobbed, but the Tengugaki's triumphant laughter drowned her out, and she felt her strength begin to wan as her blood loss increased.

"It is done! It is done!" the Tengugaki crowed, the once black mitama on his forehead pulsing from red to white as he looked down into Midori's pain-glazed eyes. "Lord Akumakai's freedom is now assured! You alone have given us the power dominate all of humanity!" he gloated, "and for that I will make your death a swift one!"

He finally removed his hand from her stomach and Midori, now too weak to move, watched as he flexed his claws, thrusting them towards her, intending to impale her on their sharp ends. But then he abruptly stopped, his breath coming out in a feral sounding hiss and his eyes, though still trained in her direction seemed to no longer be focused her.

"Let her go, Tamanasu," Midori heard Momiji's angry words spoken in a somewhat out of breath way coming from somewhere behind the Tengugaki who still held her captive against the wall. "Unless you want me to use this gun I've got pressed against your skull to free the hybrid energy you've just collected, you'll let her go. Now!"


	44. 43: Dark Road of Despair

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

"Kushinada," Tamanasu breathed.

Midori watched his eyes widen in shock before they began to gleam brightly.

"M-momiji," she muttered weakly, trying desperately to focus on what was happening. "Forget about me. Shoot. Shoot him now," she urged, her voice thin and thread-like.

"Let her go!" Momiji demanded one more time as she gained control over her breathing, her hand shaking as she pressed the gun between the two sharp, curving horns that ran like a ridge down the back of Tamanasu's head.

A gurgling sound filled the room, and Momiji realized disconcertedly that Tamanasu was laughing. Already terrified, it still managed to send a fresh chill down her spine.

"Gladly," he agreed with malice, "since you've been so obliging as to appear to take her place."

"Shoot him, Momiji!" Midori feebly cried one last time and Momiji, the panic coursing through her body, felt her finger begin to tighten on the trigger.

_BANG!_

Distantly Momiji heard the sound of the gun go off, knew her bullet had gone astray and prayed that it hadn't hit Midori.

_No!" _she thought as pain crashed through her.

Moving incredibly fast, Tamanasu had whipped around before she had had a chance to fire her gun and threw her bodily away from him. She had found herself briefly sailing backwards before she had slammed into the coffee table and felt it collapse beneath her. The breath knocked out of her and her left arm throbbing unbearably, Momiji lay stunned, unable to move; listening to the hollow, mocking sound of Tamanasu's continued laughter.

Briefly, her eyes flickered in the direction of where Midori was, although in the darkness, she couldn't see her.

"Mid-ori," she wheezed, still struggling to catch her breath.

"You've got to run, Momiji. Leave me while you still can."

Midori's voice sounded even weaker, almost lifeless altogether, but Momiji was just relieved that she'd answered. Satisfied that she hadn't inadvertently shot her best friend, Momiji's eyes pivoted towards the misshapen, dark outline in front of the sliding glass door, as she heard Tamanasu's voice counter Midori's words.

"I'm afraid that leaving is out of the question."

The mitama on his forehead was pulsating strongly and even though his skeletal countenance was shrouded in shadows, Momiji knew without a doubt that he was smiling his twisted smile. She could hear it in his voice.

"Imagine how delighted Lord Akumakai will be when I bring him not only the hybrid's energy, but also the pure and powerful essence of the Kushinada."

The sound of his hateful voice ignited Momiji's need to keep fighting.

"You think I'll let that happen!?" she retorted through clenched teeth.

Mustering every ounce of energy she had left, she raised the gun that she'd somehow clung to despite her collision with the coffee table and squeezed the trigger again. But she missed Tamanasu, instead shattering the glass door behind him as he moved with the same lightning speed as before. His silhouette flickered as he moved in a lunge while the sound of splintering glass filled the room, and Momiji felt more than saw him close in on where she lay sprawled on the ground.

Then he was standing right in front of her. By the pulse of light coming from his mitama, Momiji could now faintly see his red eyes. They were glowing with malice as he stared mockingly down at her.

"And how do you plan to stop me?" he laughed, staring at the trembling gun that was still trained in his direction before his gaze slid to her other arm clutched protectively against a rapidly rising and falling chest.

_Surely, you won't miss him at this range?_ came the desperate thought. _You hit all those other Tengugaki when they'd been charging at you,_ she told herself, knowing full well that there was a huge difference between those weak ones that had been roaming the streets and the one that was standing before her, teeming with human energy and the precious energy of Midori's baby: an Aragami- Human hybrid.

Some of what was going through her mind must have reflected on her face for Tamanasu's mouth stretched into a terrible smile of amusement.

"I'll give you one more chance, Kushinada," he told her softly, his long talons motioning towards her gun. "One more chance to save not only yourself, but your friend."

He was toying with her, she thought furiously. He knew that he could easily dodge her bullets. Especially when he was anticipating her attack.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, his smile widening. "Or have you decided that it is easier to die without a fight?"

Momiji's thoughts raced as she kept the trembling gun held in his direction, searching desperately for a way out of this impossible situation.

"I have no intention of dying –"she again retorted defiantly as she stared up at him. "- not by your hand, ever!"

And then she squeezed the trigger and watched what she knew would happen, happen.

Tamanasu dodged and dove towards her, one skeletal hand enclosing around her wrist, and the other around her throat. He squeezed her wrist hard and Momiji felt her fingers open involuntarily, the gun falling from her nerveless fingers.

"Shall I use your intentions to help pave your way to the Afterworld?" he sneered, his other hand around her throat beginning to squeeze and cut off her air, "since that's all they are good for?" He pinned her empty hand to the ground and leaned over closer to her so he could stare into her eyes. "Looks like you lose, Kushinada," he told her gloatingly, "and I win."

Momiji could feel the blood pounding in her head as he applied increasing pressure to her throat, completely sealing off her windpipe. She jerked her right hand which was still caught in his grasp, trying to draw his attention there more than truly free herself since the likelihood of that happening was virtually nonexistent. Then she surreptitiously moved her other hand, trying not to stiffen when pain exploded through her broken arm, knowing that everything would be over if he caught on to what she was doing. The corners of her vision began to darken and the blood hammered even harder through her head drowning out Tamanasu's pleased laughter as she continued to struggle feebly against his hold.

And then, suddenly she could breathe as he let go of her throat.

She didn't have time to be relieved as she sucked the air back into her lungs for he put his palm against her forehead and she knew he was getting ready to siphon her energy.

_Now! Now! _Screamed her brain as she began to feel that sickeningly familiar burning sensation vibrating against her skull. She wasn't quite ready, but she couldn't wait any longer. She could already feel her senses slowly slipping from her body into Tamanasu's. Flexing her left index finger, she triggered a sudden explosion, the flare gun she'd pulled free from her waistband erupting into bright orange white light.

Just as she'd hoped, he'd not expected her to be able to use her left arm, and she watched in vicious satisfaction, the look of incredulous shock on Tamanasu's face as he hurtled backwards towards the empty frame of the shattered glass door, unable to fight against the force of the flare's thrust. She heard him strike the metal frame hard and go down just inside the door amid the hissing and spitting sound as the flare continue to burn where it had become imbedded in Tamanasu's lower torso.

Momiji got up as quickly as she could; her movements made clumsy from pain and shock, and groped around for her gun. Tamanasu might be down for the moment, but she'd been unable to get her gun into a prime position before she'd had to fire it, and she knew that without severely damaging his body or destroying his mitama, she would be unable to beat him.

"M-momiji –"she heard Midori weakly warn, "he's getting back up!"

Momiji turned her head and saw Tamanasu clambering to his feet while she continued to frantically feel around for her gun.

"I know, I see him!" she cried, as she watched him reach down and slowly pull the still burning flare from his body and toss it carelessly to the ground, seemingly unconcerned with the black blood that began to flow and the hole that had been made.

"No more games," he hissed angrily, "I've already let you live too long."

He turned his head and snarled at Momiji, hunching over and getting ready to lunge again. Momiji moaned, her fingers sweeping frantically around as she kept her eyes pinned to Tamanasu. _I'm not going to make it,_ she thought, but then her fingertips brushed against the cooling metal of a gun barrel.

Desperately, she scooped it up and, as he sprang forward, began emptying its contents at him.

He was moving much slower now, his energy beginning to seep away with his blood so he was unable to adjust as quickly as before and she managed to hit him in the shoulder before he swerved away, making it harder for her to aim. The flickering light of the burning flare helped Momiji keep him within sight, but even with the extra light and the fact that he wasn't as fast as he had been, he was still too fast for her lousy marksmanship as long as he wasn't coming straight at her.

Moving more erratically now, he flitted around the room and her gun swivelled around, trying to keep up with him. Twice he stopped, as if gauging the best way to attack her, and both times, she tried to take advantage of his stationary position, by shooting at him, but each time she missed. The third time he stopped, he had made a complete circuit of the room, coming to a halt just inside the patio door not far from where Midori sat slumped against the wall. There he crouched low, his eyes shining eerily in the wavering light of the flare

Momiji hesitated only briefly before firing again, but this time there was nothing but a loud click. Horrified, she watched Tamanasu smile triumphantly and realized her mistake immediately. This is what he had been waiting for. This is what he had wanted. He'd bided his time, knowing that he could easily reach her before she could reload her gun.

"Oh no," Momiji breathed, digging for a full clip in her pants pocket as he surged towards her at full speed.

She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she helplessly watched him zoom in. She fumbled with the clip that was now out of her pocket, trying to get it into the gun but not making it before he was in front of her, his claws extending for her.

Momiji cringed, reflexively throwing up her arm as she took a step back, knowing it wasn't enough to save her, but miraculously his claws never touched her. A jagged burst of bright blue lightning crackled to life from behind him, diverting his attention from her as he scrambled to avoid it. Momiji was forced to dive for safety as well when a swift volley of light blades followed the lightning, and the flattened remains of the coffee table where she'd been standing, became pulverized as the blue energy blasts hit it.

Momiji rolled to a stop next to Midori, bodily shielding her friend from small pieces of shrapnel that shot out in all directions. Flattening her hands against the wall on either side of her Midori's head, she tucked her face into her own chest as she listened to various objects around the room shatter or topple to the floor, victims of flying debris.

Amid the crackling and popping sounds, she also heard the scuffling of claws against the floor and she tensed as she realized they seemed to be moving in her direction.

"I think you should be more concerned with me than with them," she heard a cold voice observe, and then heard Midori softly breathe his name:

"Murakumo."

Lifting her head, Momiji chanced a peek over her shoulder and saw Murakumo flit forward, putting himself between where she and Midori were and where Tamanasu was. She heard a low growl emit from Tamanasu's throat and knew that the Tengugaki was furious.

"Murakumo," Momiji called in a tremulous voice, "you mustn't let him leave – Midori – " fraught with suppressed emotion, her voice broke before she could tell him the horrible truth. It was all she could do to finally say, "he has ... he has the hybrid's energy."

Murakumo darted a sharp look over his shoulder, his gaze murderous as he redirected his attention back to Tamanasu.

"You bastard." His voice throbbed with cold hatred. "I'm going to obliterate every slimy piece of you!"

Tamanasu fell back towards the apartment door, stalked by Murakumo who slowly advanced, gauging the Tengugaki's condition as he retreated. The sudden wariness in Tamanasu's stance, something that hadn't been there when it was just her and Midori, told Momiji that the Tengugaki realized he was at a serious disadvantage. He was still bleeding, still losing energy, and an Aragami was a much different, much more dangerous opponent than a mere human girl.

Because of that, Momiji fully expected to see him turn and run, praying that with his loss of energy he would be slow enough for Murakumo to catch. But he didn't. Instead, he threw back his head and let out a roar that became bone chilling when a muffled response rose up from the night.

The horrifying sound came from all around them: above them, below them and even behind Tamanasu, behind the door that separated Midori's apartment from the hallway.

"_He's calling for help," _Momiji whispered in terror.

Murakumo stopped moving, his fists clenching at his sides as he realized the same thing. "The hell you say," he hissed furiously. "It's not going to be like that," he vowed, suddenly lunging forward, "I'll kill you now!" he roared, "Before they can get here!"

But even as the words left his mouth, the room was becoming flooded with Tengugaki. They burst in through the door behind Tamanasu, and some were coming through the patio door, climbing like giant lizards from the patios above and below. Momiji let out a muffled scream and again threw herself in front of Midori, doing her best to shield her. But the Tengugaki didn't seem to notice her; their focus was on Tamanasu and Murakumo only.

Several converged on Murakumo while the rest continued towards Tamanasu, and Momiji could hardly believe her eyes as she watched Murakumo fight. In the past, he had always fought with a calculating coldness; even in the fiercest of battles that she'd been witness to. He'd been a truly terrifying sight to watch, – but the side of him she was seeing now was just as terrifying – No, she silently amended, it was _more _terrifying.

His rage was completely out of control, his movements wild and erratic. With no sign of obvious strategy, he carelessly ripped through the slimy cage that sought to entrap him, his opponents falling like dolls beneath his sword. But his savage anger left him prone to attack, and long talons pierced his shoulders and raked the flesh from his arms as he continued his rampage, seemingly unphased by the pain they inflicted.

"Stop him!" Midori begged Momiji, her clammy hand weakly gripping Momiji by the wrist as they both watched by the sickly flickering light of the flare as he became bloodier and bloodier with every passing minute. "He's going to die!"

Momiji didn't know what to say. How could she stop him? He was all that separated them from being attacked by the Tengugaki.

_She might not be able to stop him, but there_ _was something she could do_, she thought with determination.

Pushing wobbly to her feet, Momiji turned and stood. Taking a small sidestep so she could see beyond Murakumo, she searched the mass of slimy bodies for the pulsating mitama of Tamanasu.

She saw him at the same time that he saw her, and as she raised her gun, she heard him let out a warning roar.

Murakumo's head whipped around, his eyes amazingly clear despite his fury as he bellowed, "You fool! What do you think you're doing!?"

Momiji fired her gun, but the bullet was lost in the sea of Tengugaki that was now surging towards them; their target no longer Murakumo, but her. She'd known that they would come, knew that Murakumo would only be able to hold them off for a few seconds before they were on top of her, and she had at best, one good shot left.

_He's slower now_, she reminded herself as she steadied her gun, her eyes moving past the undulating mass of slime to focus on the pulsating light centered on Tamanasu's forehead. _He's slower, and unguarded... I can do it...._ The first few Tengugaki had finally made it past Murakumo and were bearing down on her, but she ignored them. I_f I aim for his mitama, I can bring him down..._ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them lunging for her. It had to be now.

"Please God," she silently whispered as she pulled the trigger, "let me hit him."

Everything became a blur. She heard the sound of her pistol exploding, felt razors tearing into her broken arm and then experienced a numbing blow as her body was jerked aside amidst the loud, hoarse scream of her name against her eardrum.

"Momiji!" Kusanagi shrieked, as he flitted out of the balcony door with her and Midori in tow. He all but dropped her to the ground once outside, being more careful but just as hasty as he settled Midori against the wrought iron railings. "What the hell are you doing!?" he railed at her, not bothering to wait for her answer as he spun back around towards the apartment and ordered, "Stay here! I've got to go and help Murakumo. - Don't move from this spot, got that Princess!?"

Momiji nodded her head but he was already sprinting back into the apartment, and Momiji listened tensely to the sounds of battle that lay beyond the flickering flare light in the darkened doorway.

There was another loud roar and then she heard Kusanagi's voice cry, "Damn! Don't let him get- !"

The rest of his sentence was lost in a loud groaning crash, like that of a wall being demolished and Momiji realized as the sounds of struggle began fading that Tamanasu was using his Sentinels as a blockade. He was running away; back to his demon lord before the hybrid's energy was taken from him.

"He's – going to - get - away," Midori remarked brokenly, her breathing becoming labored as if speaking took all of her strength. "I'm – so – sorry, Momiji."

Momiji crouched by her friend, and placed a caressing hand against her cheek, alarmed at how cold she felt. She had nothing to put around Midori to try and keep her warm and although the apartment was now completely silent, Momiji was not about to leave her out here alone to search for something inside.

"You don't have to be sorry," Momiji said softly as she smoothed the hair away from Midori's face.

"- My fault," Midori mumbled closing her eyes before opening them again after some effort. "M-momiji," she huffed, her breathing again becoming labored, "C-can you do something for me? Can you – tell - Murakumo something for me?"

"Shhh, don't talk," Momiji soothed, trying to quiet her friend's sudden agitation, "save your strength, Midori."

"But I need you to tell him something!" Midori insisted, becoming more fretful, her chest rising and falling rapidly in gasping breaths.

"You'll be able to tell him later when you see him," Momiji replied, unwilling to acknowledge what she knew Midori was thinking.

"Please, Momiji!" Midori implored, her eyes desperate as she stared unblinking up into Momiji's taught expression.

"What –is it that you want me to tell him?" Momiji reluctantly yielded.

"Tell him that it's important for him to continue to look for the future with Noa – tell him that no matter what happens, he should never stop searching for that. – He'll understand what it means," Midori mumbled. "And would you also tell him," she hesitated, her face twisting into distressed lines as she went on, "tell him that – I – I love him... I want him to know that..."

Momiji's eyes began to sting with tears and she struggled to keep her face from crumpling, desperately willing her friend not to give up.

"Midori, I'll tell him - but you should focus on saving your strength so that when he comes back you can tell him yourself," she began encouragingly and paused when Midori reached up and gave the Momiji's hand that still cupped her cheek a comforting squeeze.

Her eyes drifted close and she let her hand drop back down to her side as she weakly mumbled, "I – I'm tired. You don't mind if I go to sleep do you?" Momiji didn't answer, clenching her teeth together to keep the sob rising in her throat from breaking free. "Please don't forget my request, Momiji."

Her voice faded, her body going slack against the wrought iron rails, and time stopped as Momiji remained crouched anxiously by her side, tensed and trembling.

"Midori?" she called, unable to see her friend's face through the veil of tears overflowing from her eyes.

Quickly she leaned forward, pressing her cheek close to Midori's nose and mouth, frantically feeling for the brush of breath against her skin. It was there, but only just. There was no sense of relief; only the pain in her chest that was becoming all too familiar as, once again, Momiji was faced with the circumstance of losing someone very dear to her and the knowledge that the power of the Kushinada had failed to protect one of the ones she wished to protect the most.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she gave vent to her rage and frustration, railing loudly, "Why can't I do anything!? Why can't I save you!?" Then her shoulders sagged in defeat and she grasped the railing above Midori's head, her voice coming out in a whisper as she begged, "Don't give up, Midori. -Please don't die."

_- He's here._

The words cut swiftly through her agony scarcely before she sensed the familiar presence and was almost blinded by a sudden luminescence as her shot open. Everything around her was bathed in bright, white light, a circle the encompassed the entire patio, even though the city beyond her still lay gripped in the darkness caused by the Tengugaki.

Momiji turned her head, slowly rising to her feet as her eyes met the unfathomable dark depths of the Storm God's who had appeared so suddenly and silently behind her.

"Lord Susano-oh," She murmured in a voice still clogged with tears.

Susano-oh's mouth curved into a faint, comforting smile before his eyes drifted away from her to light on the still figure of Midori. Moving quietly past Momiji, he knelt down in a fluid motion and lightly rested the fingertips of his left hand against Midori's brow and the palm of his right hand against her abdomen. He closed his eyes, and Momiji watched as Midori's face became softly illuminated by the healing blue light emanating from his hand. After a long moment, the glow faded and the Storm God again opened his eyes, turning to look at Momiji who remained standing in awed speechlessness as he rose to his feet and took her hand.

"Will she be all right?" Momiji asked, finally finding her voice.

"It is not within my power to decide her fate, but I have done what I can for her. – Now, close your eyes, Kushinada."

The words echoed only in her thoughts and Momiji found herself obeying his command without hesitation. As her eyes slid shut, she felt him draw her close, and her head dropped to his shoulder as his arms came up to encircle her in a comforting embrace. Almost immediately, the pain that had been throbbing continuously in her left arm began to lessen, as did the painful ache around her heart. After a few moments, her body was once again almost completely whole, but even so, Susano-oh continued to hold her for a long moment.

He could sense her lingering sorrow and it only added to his reluctance of carrying out the task he had come here to do. But she alone was the single hope that remained, and he had faith in her.

"Do not let despair defeat you," he quietly spoke aloud to her, finally releasing her and stepping back to gaze compellingly into her troubled green eyes. "You are the only one who can defeat the darkness rising to engulf humankind," he told her, wiping away the saltiness that dampened her cheek. "It is your power that will save us all, Momiji, Kushinada."

He sounded so sure when he spoke, but Momiji couldn't understand how he could say such a thing, since the power of her blood had been nullified when Tamanasu had taken the unborn hybrid child. She gazed uncertainly up at him until he took her hand and pressed something into it.

"I have come to return this to you," he murmured, his words once more falling only into her thoughts.

Momiji looked down then to see the Ceremonial Blade of Sacrifice clutched between her fingers and she darted a bemused look at him.

"Do not draw the blade until you are ready," he directed her with solemn meaning, his fingers curling around hers where she clutched the tantou.

Momiji nodded unsteadily, realizing what it was she was being asked to do and was slightly startled when he reached out and gently grasped her chin between his fingers.

"Make them understand, Momiji," he urged her, once again speaking aloud, "help the Souls of the Blade to see clearly the future that you so desperately want; the future that your human friend wants Murakumo to find. If you can make Them understand that, then you will win."

Again Momiji nodded and he released her chin, taking a step back.

"Believe in yourself -," Momiji heard Susano-oh's last words echo in her mind as the light around her began to diminish, "and don't give up."

Slowly, Susano-oh's visage faded from her sight until she was once again standing in the darkness lit only by the feeble flickering sparks of the burning flare.

"I won't give up," Momiji stammered aloud, staring over the railing out into the darkness where she'd last perceived Susano-oh's waning presence to be.

"Who are you talking to?" she heard Kusanagi's deep voice ask her from behind.

The suddenness of it made her yelp and she turned abruptly to face him, surreptitiously tucking the blade Susano-oh had returned to her into the waistband at the back of her pants as she surveyed her husband's bloodied appearance.

"Are you all right?" she demanded, reaching up to gingerly examine a long groove that had been carved down the length of his cheekbone. "Were you able to stop him?"

Kusanagi jerked away, evading her touch.

"No," he replied darkly, "There were just too many of them. It didn't take long for us to lose sight of Tamanasu and once that happened, the others fled as well." Then his voice became accusing as he demanded, "Susano-oh was here wasn't he?"

Because of Susano-oh's visit, Momiji wasn't surprised to learn that Tamanasu had indeed escaped, but she was a little disconcerted at how perceptive Kusanagi was.

"How did you know he'd been here?" she asked, mystified.

"My mitamas started glowing while we were chasing after Tamanasu, and also –"Kusanagi reached out and grabbed her left arm to hold it up between them, his voice no less accusing when he acerbically remarked, "when I rescued you from the Tengugaki, you were bleeding profusely from here."

His expression didn't improve when she unwisely blurted out that it had been broken too.

"But it's not broken now," she hastily informed him. "See!?" Her hand still caught in his grip, she wiggled her fingers in front of his face to demonstrate and watched his countenance become even more forbidding.

Kusanagi opened his mouth to make a biting reply at her lack of regard for safety, but was interrupted when Murakumo came striding through the glassless door behind him. Kusanagi gave the Aragami lord a swift assessing look, noting that his hard eyes never left the unconscious figure of Midori. Abruptly, Kusanagi let go of Momiji's arm, the irritation in his face dying out as he realized that the scene playing out in front of his eyes could very well have been he and Momiji instead of Murakumo and Midori.

Murakumo seemed oblivious to their presence as he knelt beside Midori. His eyes followed the spattered trail of blood that led from where she lay, all the way across the patio to the doorway. It didn't disappear there but continued on until it reached the large pool that had formed when Tamanasu had destroyed the unborn life inside of her.

_So much had been shed,_ he thought broodingly, _and _h_umans were so frail_. He'd never seen a human survive long after losing that much blood.

A sudden coldness gripped his insides and his eyes roamed over the stillness of Midori's face. His hand was shaking, he realized as he reached out and touched her cheek. But he was too disturbed by Midori's condition to draw back and hide his sudden weakness - even when he heard the Kushinada speak to him from behind.

"Susano-oh tried to help her," Momiji murmured quietly, "but he couldn't say for sure..." her words petered out and she fidgeted slightly when it appeared Murakumo would not acknowledge her words. "She gave me a message for you," she continued doggedly, and delivered the message to him in a diffident manner, completely unprepared for the fury in his eyes as he finally looked at her after she was finished.

"How pathetic!" he lashed out, rising to his feet, his face so contorted with anger that Momiji took a step backwards, bumping into Kusanagi who dropped a reassuring hand on her shoulder. At that moment, she was afraid that Murakumo might actually physically strike her. "Did she really expect me to be content to hear that from you!? I refuse to accept her message, Kushinada!" Murakumo railed with icy contempt.

_You jerk! _Momiji thought, her own temper rising at what she felt was Murakumo's lack of concern. She balled up her fist, getting ready to shake it at him, but then froze in place when she saw the veiled look of desperation in Murakumo's eyes as he glanced back down at Midori.

"Did you hear me, Midori?" he demanded softly of the unconscious girl. His voice was no longer hard or angry, and it held a note of entreaty as he dropped back down to his knees by her side. "If you want me to accept your message, then you must tell me yourself. I will only accept it if I can hear it from you."

He leaned over and carefully scooped her off the ground, cradling her head against his shoulder with one of his hands as he rose to stand. As he stood there, unspeaking, his head bent and his eyes closed, the blood from his open wounds mingled with the blood staining Midori's clothes; a feeble but poignant echo of what had been lost to them that night.

A light breeze blew several long raven strands of hair across Murakumo's face, accentuating the lines of utter bleakness in his countenance. And Momiji was forced to look away, unable to bear looking at the one person she had never thought to see crushed by concern for another.

"He loves her," Momiji whispered to Kusanagi, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"Yeah, he does," came Kusanagi's gruff reply, the hand on her shoulder giving her a tight, understanding squeeze.

"Yo! Kusanagi! Momiji!"

Standing just outside Midori's patio door was Kome and she was armed to the teeth. She didn't ask any questions at first, her blue eyes flying swiftly over the scene, assessing everything before she reached for her radio to relay the situation. Then she briskly stepped towards them and began firing questions at them, getting all the pertinent information she needed before she even reached their side.

"Help is on the way," she told them as she drew abreast of them, her eyes lingering on Murakumo who still stood apart from them. "A helicopter should be here within the next few minutes." Then she turned, an uncomfortable look on her face as she diffidently muttered, "Damn, how long is he going to stay like that!?"

"I've never seen him like that before either," Momiji replied in a low, troubled voice.

"I know," Kome agreed with a shudder, "It's just ... plain _unnatural_."

Kusanagi grunted noncommittally and Momiji's eyes widened as she opened her mouth to dispute Kome's claim, but she was forestalled by the arrival of the remainder of the TAC team on board a military helicopter. It hovered just off the balcony and without a word Murakumo flitted aboard it, carrying Midori. Kome moved to clamber on next, and then before Momiji could, she felt Kusanagi's arm catch her around her waist and haul her sideways like a sack of potatoes as he lithely jumped on board, leaving Midori's decimated apartment behind.

Once inside, Kusanagi immediately released her, but before Momiji could even stand straight, the rest of the team gathered around them, save for Ms. Matsudaira who was kneeling by Midori, working to see what her condition was.

"Just after Kome radioed that you and Murakumo were unable to stop Tamanasu, the Tengugaki attacking the power plants also retreated. Not only that, but all other Tengugaki activity that was being picked up by the TLTS system quickly ceased as well," Kunikida reported without preamble. "We can only assume that since they have what they came for, they have retreated, but for how long they will be gone is an unknown at this point. The Ground Defense Force has already started evacuating the city's populace to underground shelters, and they are working to repair some of the power grids taken out so that the city will at least have emergency power. Momiji," he called, turning his face in her direction, "do you still have the ceramic bracelets with you?"

Momiji nodded and withdrew them from her pocket, handing them to the older man. He in turn took them and handed one each to Murakumo and Kusanagi.

"Now that the Tengugaki have what they want," he muttered as each man took a bracelet from him, "their leader will assuredly make an appearance soon. When he does, we need to be prepared. These bracelets should give you extra strength," he informed them and then held up a warning finger as he added grimly, "but use them sparingly because we don't know what ill effects they will have over a long period of time." After both men nodded in understanding, Mr. Kunikida turned to the rest of the team, "I've already discussed this with the President. We will remain headquartered at the Terrestrial Administration Center's Lab until things start to happen. Then we will break up into teams and each team will have the back up firepower of an elite squadron of the Ground Defense Force. So, you, you and you," he said pointing to Sakura, Yaegashi and Sugishita, "you will be working as reconnaissance on the western perimeter of the city. Kome, you and Ryoko will be heading up Command in the center part of the city while Matsu, I and Momiji will head to the eastern front –"

"No-"Kusanagi interrupted abruptly, "Momiji should not be a part of the teams. She should stay at headquarters."

"Kusanagi!" Momiji interrupted in protest, but he just ignored her.

"Tamanasu issued the threat that once he had the hybrid's energy, he would be coming after Momiji," he went on, keeping his focus only on Kunikida. "It's imprudent to put her in harm's way when we know that the Tengugaki can sense her energy. She should stay within the ceramic field with Noa where they will not be able to find her."

"No!" Momiji objected vehemently, but it seemed no one was willing to listen to her.

"Excellent point, Kusanagi," Mr. Kunikida agreed with a nod, "Then the eastern team will just be Matsu and I. You, Kusanagi, and Murakumo we'll be relying on you to go where you're needed most. Communication between teams is top priority, in order to combine our efforts and make our attack as effective as possible when the enemy finally makes its appearance... Please be aware, that should we fail, we have once again asked our American allies to step in – you are all aware of what this means." He paused and looked around at the solemn faces as each one nodded and then quietly added, "We cannot let the plague of the Tengugaki spread beyond our borders. They will be stopped by whatever measure necessary. But I have no intention of letting it come to that -" he assured them with grim determination.

Doggedly, Mr. Kunikida continued going over team organization until they landed on the roof of the Terrestrial Administration's laboratory building, but by then Momiji had ceased to listen. Everyone quickly disembarked save for her. She lagged behind, still upset over being excluded and solemnly watched as two medical personnel who had been standing by waiting for their arrival scurried forward to extricate Midori's stretcher from the Chinook helicopter.

As they worked, her eyes slid to Murakumo's somber figure. He had been the only one besides Momiji who had remained aboard, but as soon as Midori was gone, he was too, trailing watchfully behind as she was borne away into the building. Momiji bowed her head, her thoughts chaotic and dark as she reached around and touched the handle of the tantou. How was she going to use this if the TAC kept her from leaving the ceramic field they'd created to protect Noa?

"Oy!" she heard Kusanagi call to her from outside. "Are you coming?" he wanted to know with a little more impatience than the situation warranted. Momiji knew it was because he sensed her desire to continue arguing about being left out and he was trying his best to discourage her.

But she wasn't about to let this go. It was much too important!

"Kusanagi, why did you tell Mr. Kunikida to leave me out?" she demanded without preamble as she hopped down next to where Kusanagi stood waiting for her. "You know we're going to need every single person out there fighting!!" she exclaimed.

Kusanagi scowled down at her.

"You're not 'every single person'," he retorted, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to walk away, throwing over his shoulder. "You're Momiji."

"Wait!" she called, scrambling after him. "Kusanagi!" she cried in frustration as he ignored her and jerked open the stairwell door, disappearing inside.

Running to catch up with him, she called his name again as she entered the stairwell well behind him, surprised that it wasn't pitch black when she went inside. Apparently, the building's emergency generators were now up and running. Thankful for the light, Momiji leaned over to search for the crown of his greenish-black head as his name echoed off the cement walls. Her mouth fell open in dismay when she saw him all the way at the bottom, getting ready to open the door to the floor where the ceramic lab was, and she felt a little spark of anger as she realized that the only way he could've gotten that far ahead of her was by using his Aragami speed. He was running away from her, running away from what she wanted to say.

"I know you can hear me!" she shouted, exacerbated when he didn't hesitate, the metal door clanging behind him as he went through it. Momiji made an irritated noise, skipping down the stairs as quickly as she could and grumbling under her breath, "I _hate it_ when you ignore me!"

By the time she made it to the bottom, she was out of breath and even angrier. Sticking her head out of the door, she glanced up and down the hallway, but Kusanagi was nowhere in sight; not that she had really expected him to be. She headed towards the lab and wasn't surprised when she spied Kusanagi beyond the glass wall coming out of the small bathroom, shirtless and carrying a bloodied towel which he tossed into the corner. The anger that had been simmering inside her died when she saw the deep scores the claws of the Tengugaki had made in his flesh. Knowing the damage they were capable of inflicting was what had spurred him into having the TAC leave her behind.

But it didn't matter, she told herself. She no longer needed to be protected just because she was the Kushinada, and she wanted to fight alongside them. Every member of the team faced that same risk; so why should she be given special treatment?

This was the argument she had to make; this is what she must make him believe if she were to have any chance of using the tantou that Susano-oh had returned to her.

"Kusanagi," she called, stepping through the glass door and into the room, "why didn't you wait for me? I need to talk to you!"

"You don't have anything to say that I want to hear right now, Momiji," he informed her darkly, grabbing up a clean set of clothes and heading for the bathroom. "I'm tired, I'm dirty, I'm hurt – _and_ I don't feel like arguing with you."

"But this is important!" she protested.

She followed him across the room almost bumping into him when he stopped short and whipped around, resentment burning in his eyes as he demanded, "Why!?" Why is it so important, Momiji!?"

"Because I'm part of the TAC too!" she responded earnestly, "- Because it's not right for everyone to be out there risking everything while I'm cowering behind a barrier, risking nothing!"

"None of the rest of us is being targeted by the Tengugaki!" he shot back. "The risk to us is minimal, whereas for you –"

"That's not true!" Momiji argued hotly. "You're even more of a target than I am!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him as if it was his fault. "Tamanasu would come after you before he would come after me!"

"That's fine with me!!" Kusanagi cut in in hardened accents. "I would rather him come after me than you; which is why you have to stay here. If he caught even a whiff of your energy–"

"But it's not fair! It's not right!" she persisted, pushing her husband to the very limits of his patience. "I worry about what will happen to you!"

"If you're worried," he shouted ill temperedly, "then you'll do as I say. I can't afford the distraction of looking out for you when I have my own neck to think about!"

His words were hard and cynical, but they held a lot of truth. That didn't keep the hurt expression from Momiji's face though and as she looked away from him, a heavy silence settled between them.

"This is because of Susano-oh, isn't it?" he asked bitterly and Momiji's gaze flew back to his face in surprise. "You're fighting with me over this because of him."

"N-n-n-"she stammered shaking her head and then, "wh-wh-why would you think that?"

Kusanagi turned his back to her and said in a quiet, stony voice, "Why else would he have come, unless he wanted something from you?"

Momiji grimaced and clenched her fists at her sides. She wanted to be able to deny the charge, but her voice seemed frozen in her throat and her silence was all he needed to confirm the truth.

"You're not going," Kusanagi snapped with a frigid note of finality. "So, you'd better get used to it, Princess." Then he walked away from her towards the bathroom, muttering, "I'm going to get a shower. I need to wash away some of this stench."

Seething with pent-up frustration, Momiji turned, yanked open the glass door and stormed back into the observation room. Flinging herself into the swivel chair in front of the computer station, she leaned her elbows against the white desktop and dropped her face into her hands. She stayed like that for a few minutes before she finally lifted her head, her eyes resting dejectedly on a three-tiered rolling cart that was positioned in the corner.

_There had to be another way_, she thought, despondently, _but what?_

Little by little, her brain began to absently register and catalog the contents of the cart, and with a sudden start, her gaze came into sharp focus as she realized what she was looking at. Quickly leaning over, she reached into a mesh basket on the second shelf and pulled out the emergency two-way radio she saw sitting there. She darted a furtive look into the room beyond the glass to make sure that Kusanagi was still in the shower and then she turned the radio on, adjusted the channel settings and held it close to her face.

32


	45. 44: Beginning of the End

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FOURTY-FOUR

"Mr. Futeki?" she called lowly, hoping that the biker had left his transceiver on. Other than the low static hum, there was nothing but silence. "Mr. Futeki, are you there?" she repeated anxiously.

"My gawd, woman -" his voice crackled so loudly that Momiji visibly jumped, almost dropping the radio to the floor before fumbling for the volume control, nervously shooting another glance towards the bathroom as Mr. Futeki continued speaking. "You weren't lying about those slimy buggers! I dunno what the hell you did, but they came pouring outta that building, like a fast moving mudslide!

"It wasn't me, exactly," Momiji replied quietly, and then shook her head a little, trying to get the conversation going in the right direction. "But never mind that right now. - D-do you remember what I said, about your money?" she asked.

"Of course," he snorted.

"W-well, how would you like to make three times that amount, by doing me a favor?" she ventured, praying he would agree.

"Hell no! You still haven't paid me what you owe me for the first favor!!" he growled and Momiji felt her heart fall into her shoes, only to rise again as he added gruffly, "But…if you're in a bind, you can count on me."

"Mr. Futeki," Momiji breathed, feeling overwhelmed, "you don't know how much this means-"

"Yeah, I do," he grunted. "It means I've just screwed myself out of three hundred thousand yen."

"But I'm more than willing to pay it –" Momiji hastened to assure him.

"Yeah, yeah, sister," came his flippant response "just pay me what you owe me and we'll call it even. In the meantime, maybe you could tell me what it is you want me to do."

Momiji smiled a little. "It might not seem like much," she told him, "but I need you to take me for a ride."

"Where're we goin' this time?" he wanted to know, and Momiji spent a good fifteen minutes going over her plans with him. Just as she was finishing up, she heard the hall door open behind her and she turned to see Ms. Matsudaira standing there with Noa in her arms. She guiltily shot out of her chair, belatedly trying to act as if she hadn't been doing anything suspicious before the scientist had come in.

"I knew you'd be wondering where Noa had gotten to, and I just wanted to let you know what was going on," Matsu began, while Momiji tried not to let her disconcertment at the older woman's word's show.

With all that had happened, it hadn't even occurred to her to look and see if Noa was missing. Conscience-stricken, she couldn't bring herself to argue when Matsu went on to say, "Now that the ceramic bracelets have been perfected, and given the recent turn of events, it's been decided that he should be kept on the move until there is a better understanding of just how powerful our enemy has become." Matsu momentarily paused, glancing briefly at Momiji as she digested this information before ending in an apologetic way. "The Self-Defense Force will be taking custody of him, Momiji – at least until it can be discerned whether or not there is still a threat to his safety."

Momiji swallowed and then gave a slight nod of her head, her green eyes resting on the sleeping face of the dark-headed baby. Something in her expression prompted Matsu to ask in an odd tone, "You're okay with this? - I was almost certain you would feel that this decision goes against what you'd promised Kaede…"

Momiji took a moment before she answered. It was true; Kaede had asked her to watch after him. But now that Susano-oh had returned the tantou to her, she would no longer be able to fulfill that promise.

"I understand," Momiji replied haltingly. "This is what is best for him right now. I think all that Kaede wanted was to keep him safe – and she thought that as long as I had Kusanagi by my side and the power of the Kushinada to protect him, that there could be no safer place for him. But now –" Momiji paused in reflection, her thoughts so bleak that she couldn't seem to stop them from pouring out. " Now, that is no longer the case. Because the Tengugaki have what they want, my blood alone no longer has the power to keep them in check; and Kusanagi too – he will be fighting his battles far away from me

"Don't say that," Matsu interrupted, a heavy frown pulling her dark brows down over slightly reproachful eyes. "You know that he is trying desperately to protect you."

"I know," Momiji acknowledged with a small nod, her green eyes lusterless as she met Matsu's gaze. "I know that this is not what he wants; and that he thinks he is doing the only thing he can to protect me." She broke off, suddenly restless, and took several steps away from Matsu. Even though she understood his reasons, she still felt that he was wrong, and the urge to continue arguing the point suddenly welled up inside her. She stared blindly at the whitewashed wall in front of her, trying to squelch the urge.

"You think he's wrong," Matsu stated more than asked. The dubious tone of her voice suggested that she disagreed with Momiji's point of view. Momiji looked over her shoulder at the older woman and she knew that despite her neutral expression, Matsu's views were aligned with Kusanagi's and Mr. Kunikida's.

Turning on her heel, she faced Matsudaira once more, feeling disappointed that no one seemed to understand.

With a defeated sigh, Momiji gave a small shrug and looked away, saying, "It doesn't matter anymore. In the end, what I think doesn't change anything, does it?"

Matsu's eyes suddenly filled with sympathy and Momiji could see that she was searching for some way to offer her comfort. But Momiji didn't want to talk about it anymore. It was probably better this way anyway, since the battle she must prepare herself for was one she might not return from, and therefore one she couldn't disclose to Kusanagi or Matsu or any of the other dear friends and family who wanted to keep her safe.

"Well, what about Murakumo?" Momiji suddenly blurted out as she sought to direct the conversation into different channels.

"Eh?" Matsu blinked, fully disconcerted. "What about Murakumo?" she echoed, not sure what he had to do with what was happening between Momiji and Kusanagi.

"Does he know the plans regarding his son?" Momiji asked, gesturing to the sleeping baby. Matsu's countenance went through a rapid transformation and Momiji stared almost disbelievingly at her. "He doesn't know, does he?" she asked dismayed, barely waiting for the guilty shake of Matsu's head before she cried, "you can't just take his son and not say anything! Don't you think he has a right to know!?"

"He didn't know before," Matsu replied diffidently, "or at least, not because we _told _him –"

"But that's only because, before, we, he – but now - " Momiji stumbled, trying to make her point before she stammered, "He's on our side now, and Noa is his son. He should be told!"

"But what if he refuses and doesn't let us take him?" Matsu asked, her doubtufl expression clearly saying that she fully expected the Aragami lord to refuse.

"Why would he do that?" Momiji wanted to know.

"Well, as you just pointed out, Noa _is_ his son. Isn't that reason enough?" she responded wryly. "He doesn't bother to hide his opinion regarding human activity and you can see the distain he has as he watches our efforts to stem the Tengugaki activity. He clearly considers us inept."

"Inept or not," Momiji argued persistently, "it would be wrong not to tell him. What about this then," she offered as Matsu continued to shake her head doubtfully at her, "you go ahead and take Noa and _I'll _ tell Murakumo – that way he will know, but he won't be able to stop it."

Matsu relented after a moment's consideration and then she looked at her watch and said, "Well, a Self-Defense force team will be waiting for us. I need to go."

Momiji leaned forward then and put her cheek against the crown of Noa's head, dropping a soft kiss there before straightening back up. "Stay safe, little one," she whispered to him and then gave Matsu a tremulous smile, already experiencing the jarring emotions that come with separation.

"It won't be for long," Matsu said, her own face suddenly drawn and solemn. This was almost as heart wrenching for her as it was for Momiji.

Momiji nodded in understanding and after a small pause, Matsu turned and began walking away. "About Murakumo -- you should be able to find him with Midori," she suggested thoughtfully over her shoulder as she continued down the hallway. "They're keeping her on the fourth floor – in the Medical wing."

"Okay, thanks!" Momiji said, responding to Matsu's parting wave with one of her own before turning in the opposite direction and heading towards the stairwell.

As many times as she had been in this building, she had never been on the fourth floor and as she emerged from the stairwell, Momiji curiously looked around as she approached the observation post occupying the central wall in front of her. It looked exactly as one would expect a nurses' station to look, save for the fact that the people working behind the counter were dressed in white military uniforms.

This floor was normally off-limits to anyone except those with high-level security clearance because it served as a quarantine unit and was medically equipped to isolate and deal with any infectious outbreak that might occur. But because the outbreak currently threatening Japan wasn't viral, or bacterial and had still produced many victims among the Self-Defense force as well as now having claimed a member of the TAC, security access had been extended. After making an inquiry regarding her friend's room from one of the nurses working at the station, Momiji set off at a brisk pace down the hall, only slowing when she saw a harried looking physician spring from a door just ahead of her and sprint rapidly away in the opposite direction without ever looking back.

Momiji watched him disappear around the corner, before turning to glance at the room number. It was Midori's. Tentatively, Momiji reached to push the door open, but before her fingers even touched the latch, she reflexively jerked backwards as it flew open and Kome came barreling out, almost colliding with Momiji head-on. Without a single word of greeting, Momiji found herself bombarded by a barrage of angry words.

"That arrogant, cold-hearted, piece of Aragami trash!" Kome snarled at Momiji causing her to take a cautionary step backwards. Momiji eyed the redhead in alarm; she was in such a temper that she appeared ready to pounce. "Just who the hell does he think he is, anyway?"

"W-what happened?" Momiji inquired weakly

Kome motioned backwards towards the bland wooden door behind them. "That black headed brute threw me out! I mean, he _forcefully_ chucked me from the room!"

Momiji gaped at her.. "No!?" and at her friend's vigorous affirmation, "But… why?"

"Who knows?" Kome shrugged sourly. "I think he took exception to the doctor's news."

"News? What news?" Momiji wanted to know, gripped by uneasiness as Kome's sour expression melted into one of sadness.

"About Midori," Kome said haltingly and Momiji's stomach twisted into knots, suddenly seized with the most awful sinking sensation.

"She's not – she's going to be okay isn't she? – Isn't she!?" she demanded, stepping forward, her fingers convulsively curling into a tight grip on the sleeve of Kome's jacket.

"Yes," Kome replied bracingly, her warm fingers resting reassuringly atop Momiji's. "She's going to be fine."

Momiji slumped over in relief her fingers sliding away from Kome's sleeve to rest against her chest as her heart began settling back into a normal rhythm. "You had me really scared there for a minute," she breathed, her eyes moving towards Midori's door.

"Well, that is to say, her life is not in danger, Momiji," Kome began in a conciliating way and Momiji's eyes returned sharply to the red-head's sober expression as she grimaced and said, "But the doctor's news wasn't all good."

"In what way was it not good?" Momiji demanded tensely.

"I suppose that's why Murakumo got so upset and threw us out –" Kome began before Momiji impatiently interrupted her.

"Why!? Why!? Tell me already, Kome! What wasn't good!?" she demanded in a frenzy.

"Well, the doctor – he, he did say he was confident that Midori would recover, but," Kome paused, her eyes apologetic as she added, "he also said that because of the severe blood loss and scarring to her uterus, he felt that Midori's womb would atrophy – that she would be unable to conceive another child."

Momiji stood unmoving for a moment, and then she mumbled faintly, "and that was when Murakumo went berserk?"

Kome slowly nodded, suddenly no longer angry now that she'd had a chance to consider things from Murakumo's point of view. "He'd been so quiet until the doctor said that that it was a shock when he suddenly stormed towards us and ordered us to get out. Neither I nor the doctor moved for a minute or two. I think we were both too surprised by his sudden fury. But he didn't wait for us to. He drew out that sword of his and that was all it took to get the doctor through the door. But me," she continued ruminatively, "deep down, I knew he wouldn't use it, and I just sort of stood there still in shock over the news until he came over and seized me by the arm. If my legs hadn't moved on their own when he yanked me towards the door, I have no doubt that he would have dragged me all the way across the floor just to get me out. As it was, he more or less hurled me through the door once he had me there."

"Poor Midori," Momiji murmured sadly, taking a small step towards the door before Kome reached out and put a detaining hand on her arm.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," she advised, "at least not for a while," she amended letting her hand drop back to her side as she added, "why don't you give him a few hours to – I don't know – to come to terms with what's happened."

"I doubt that just a few hours is going to be enough for him to accept what the doctor said," Momiji declared, "besides – I have to tell him that the Self-Defense force has taken his son –"

She broke off then, her countenance becoming tense as she heard Kome mutter, "Oh boy."

"I guess it's best to break the news quickly," Momiji decided, straightening her spine and trying to mentally prepare herself as she stepped forward to push the door open.

"Need my gun?" Kome asked, half-joking, half-serious from behind her.

Momiji turned her head and glanced back.

"I think I've used a gun enough for one day," she replied with a small smile. "In fact, if I never held another gun in this lifetime it would still be too soon."

Crossing her arms, Kome snorted disbelievingly, and Momiji's smile widened a bit. She knew her friend wouldn't share her sentiment. Momiji nodded to her and smiled as she slipped through door, but once on the other side, the smile faded. Her eyes flitted first to Midori and then to Murakumo. She idly noted that he'd changed into a clean set of clothes and Momiji recognized the blue hakama and white kimono he was wearing as belonging to Mr. Kunikida. They were too short for him, despite the fact that Mr. Kunikida was a big man himself. But she doubted that Murakumo cared about that.

As of this moment, he stood, his back framed by the darkened window, staring broodingly beyond the panes. Momiji half doubted that he was truly studying the scenery since most of the city still lay enshrouded in blackness – or at least the parts that surrounded the TAC building anyway.

Almost as if he sensed her close scrutiny, he turned and the shadows in his eyes took her aback. Quickly she looked away, and turned her attention to the still figure of Midori. Slowly Momiji ventured towards her friend's bedside, aware that the silence between her and Murakumo couldn't have been any more fraught with tension. Perhaps that was why she was able to sense it when he turned back to face the window even though her own back was now to him.

Was this a signal - albeit a grudging one – that he at least tolerated her presence? Should she say something now? she wondered absently as she looked down at Midori's pale face in concern, or should she wait? If she did speak, would he even pay attention to what it was she was trying to say? Or would he just snarl at her and eject her from the room in the same way as he had the doctor and Kome? Momiji silently groaned. If she'd known it was going to be this difficult telling him about his son, she wouldn't have volunteered for the job, she thought plaintively.

But she just couldn't stand there and not tell him! She argued with herself impatiently. The absolute worst that could happen was that he _would _throw her out. Or at least she hoped that was the absolute worst – she shuddered to think of what else he might do. What if he – but no - taking a deep breath she launched into speech then, afraid to give herself any more time to fret about how he might react.

"Murakumo – I wanted to tell you," she rapidly blurted out without turning in his direction, "the Self-Defense Force has taken your son away –" she winced at her own words and hastily amended it to, "that is to say, they're keeping him on the move rather than hiding him -," she stopped speaking and started wringing her hands in front of her, appalled at how she was making it sound. "- no, wait, I didn't mean that the way it sounded - they're still hiding him – I didn't mean to imply that they weren't!" She turned around then, shooting him an anxious look in case he'd misunderstood her – which, if he had, she thought, frustrated, it wouldn't be surprising. "It's just that they thought it would be safer for Noa to be on the move now that the Tengugaki have…"

Her voice petered out. Murakumo was more aware than anyone of what exactly the Tengugaki had. Nervously, she waited for him to respond. After the longest minute, she thought that he hadn't heard her – that perhaps he was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he was oblivious to everything else for he remained motionless by the window.

But then in a very quiet voice he queried, "How do you tolerate it?"

Momiji's brows rose over her rounded eyes.

"Pardon?" she stammered uncertainly.

"The frailty. The tenuous existence of being human? How do you tolerate the fear and anxiety of losing that – ?" he paused and half turned in her direction, his voice even softer as he ended, "of being too weak to stop others from taking it from you?"

His eyes drifted from Momiji to Midori and then he turned and faced the window again without waiting for a reply, and Momiji sensed the disquiet in him

"I'm not human and yet –" he paused, and when he finally continued it was as if the words were being torn from him, "I find it almost impossible to bear…"

"I suppose we bear it the only way we know how," Momiji replied slowly. "By trying to protect what's important; shield those that are most fragile and live in the hope that in time those we have protected will become stronger." She moved towards him, then, reaching behind her back as she did so. "Have you seen this before?" she asked as she withdrew the tantou that had remained hidden beneath her shirt and extended her hand to show him.

Impassively he turned his head, but as his eyes lit on the blade his body tensed and his eyes darted sharply to her face.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"It's belonged to my family for a very long time, and until recently my grandmother had it. She gave it to me, but then, Susano-oh took it." Still holding it, she dropped her hand back down to her side, her eyes focused earnestly on his face as she continued. "He returned it to me tonight."

"For what purpose?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"He believes it may be the only way to win." She replied simply, "and I believe he is right."

"If this is the protection you were talking about, then I will not let you throw yourself onto the sacrificial altar knowing that you will take my son with you." Murakumo informed her coldly taking a step towards her. "That blade has only ever been used to vanquish the Aragami –"

"But your son is not just Aragami," Momiji cut in earnestly, "he's human too - and he has the ceramics to protect him – as do you and Kusanagi - As long as you are all protected by the ceramic field, then everything will be fine."

Murakumo's grey eyes stared piercingly at her and she remained unwavering beneath them, until he said, "I cannot believe that your TAC would allow you to use that."

"I haven't told them," she admitted dropping her gaze and turning restlessly, her eyes settling once again on Midori. "That's why I need your help – and if you want to protect those that are most fragile right now, then you'll help me," she urged, turning back to face him.

Momiji waited anxiously while Murakumo stared dubiously at her, considering her words, and she silently prayed that he would understand that this was the only way. With his help, her plan had an even better chance of succeeding than if she were to just rely on Mr. Futeki alone since there were things Murakumo could do that the biker could not.

"And what is it you would have me do?" Murakumo asked, his silky voice betraying none of the wariness in his eyes. "Stand alongside the altar with you and act as the world's liberator and murderer of the Kushinada?" he languidly motioned to the knife still clutched in her hand.

"Nothing that dramatic," Momiji replied, and then added regretfully, "but something almost as equally damning."

Murakumo raised an eyebrow at that and waited for her to elaborate.

Reeling from weakness but triumphant all the same, Tamanasu knelt before the twisted trunk of his Daemon Lord, feeling the intensity of all four of his Lord's eyes upon his down bent head.

"It is done, My Lord," Tamanasu wearily informed Akumakai who hissed in pleasure at these words.

Blurrily out of the corner of his eye, Tamanasu saw one of Akumakai's tendrils creeping slowly towards him and he drew in his breath sharply as it plunged towards him with lightning speed, impaling him with its blunt tip. Brutal pain pulsated as putrid energy flowed into his body, filling up the void that had been created by his wounds. Then the slimy tendril pulled itself free, and as it slowly crept back towards the darkness, the hole it had made in Tamanasu's back slowly closed.

Dragging himself to his feet, he staggered forward a few steps and managed a bow, saying in strangled accents, "You have replenished my strength, My Lord. Thank you–" and then as the pain began to abate, he straightened again, craning his neck to look into the withered visage of Akumakai.

"You have brought it to us," Akumakai breathed, lascivious greed burning in his eyes as he bent lower so that he could peer at the red and white pulsating mitama on Tamanasu's forehead. "The hybrid's soul."

Raising one of his hands, he extended a long, emaciated finger and touched the mitama. Immediately, light flared outwards, illuminating both Tengugaki and as the energy flowed from servant to master, Akumakai threw back his head and closed his eyes, his mouth curling into a bestial kind of smile. The glow faded and Tamanasu's mitama returned to black while Akumakai's mitamas begin to glow white. And then the Arch Daemon began to laugh; raucous triumphant laughter that shook the earth.

No, Tamanasu thought as he moved to keep his footing as the ground shifted beneath him. _Akumakai's lower body was reawakening – moving beneath them! _Tamanasu turned his head and looked out into the darkness. The many tendrils of Akumakai's body were releasing their prey and began moving upwards, sinking into the barrier of bedrock above them as if it were nothing.

"At last!" Akumakai thundered, looking upwards and clenching his fists in relish as the hybrid power begin filtering through his body. Then he turned his gaze back towards the ground. "You have served us well," he said addressing Tamanasu who was still having difficulty maintaining his balance as huge chunks of earth began to fall away from beneath his feet. "What would you ask of us in return?"

"Let me kill the Kushinada and her guardian, Kusanagi," he requested, "I want their energy."

"Consider them yours," Akumakai told him as the lower part of his body emerged from beneath the earth where it had been anchored for aeons and he began to stretch upwards. "Our awakened flesh is eager to taste the souls of the Overworld, Tamanasu," he said, beckoning to his most trusted servant. "We will let you lead the way."

Momiji took a deep breath before she reached for the doorknob to the lab. _Everything was set_, she mused. Now it was just a matter of waiting for things to fall into place. All that remained was making peace with Kusanagi.

P_lease don't still be mad, Kusanagi_, she silently pleaded.

She didn't want the time they had left to be marred by angry thoughts and feelings between them. Finally pulling open the door, she stepped inside and peered past the glass of the observation booth. The room beyond was empty.

"Hmm," Momiji murmured softly, "that's strange."

Swiftly taking the tantou out from beneath her shirt, she hid it at the back of the rolling cart so no one would see it and then stepped towards the glass door and opened it. Leaning through, she felt of jolt of concern when she realized that the shower was still running.

"Kusanagi?" she called out anxiously.

There was no answer. It had been over an hour since she had left. He shouldn't still be in there. "Kusanagi? Are you there?" she called again, moving quickly through the room towards the bathroom. What if he was lying in the bottom of the shower, unconscious from his wounds? Her heart pounding hard, she entered the bathroom, pulled back the shower curtain and stopped short when she saw him, concern darkening her eyes even as relief washed through her in seeing that he was safe.

He was leaning with his arms outstretch, palms flat against the wall and his head bent in a defeated pose. Long strands of dark hair hung in a curtain in front of his closed eyes, cold water streaming down it in rivulets as he just stood there, oblivious to everything, breathing heavily, his body wracked by hard shivers.

"What are you doing!?" Momiji cried. "You're freezing!"

Hurriedly shutting off the water, she reached for a towel and moved closer to him, but he just continued to stand there, breathing hard and making small noises as if he were struggling with some invisible force.

"Kusanagi," she called again, this time quietly, "can you hear me?"

Reaching out, she touched his arm. It was ice cold, and he jerked at her touch. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he swung his head sideways and opened his eyes, looking at her in surprise, like she had just popped up there out of thin air.

"Momiji," he mumbled thickly, moving sluggishly towards her as she held out the towel to wrap it around him.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" she asked querulously, as she tucked the towel around his and then turned to get another one for the rest of him. "Why didn't you get out when the water got cold? Are you all right? Are your wounds hurting?" she rapidly fired at him. She turned her head to look back at him but he was facing her, so she couldn't see the wounds crisscrossing his back. She opened her mouth to tell him to turn around so she could see, but he snagged her around the waist and pulled her sideways towards him. Her surprise at his sudden movement made her drop her extra towel and she lost her balance. Her cheek smacked hard against his chest, the droplets of water clinging to him getting her wet.

"We had an agreement," Kusanagi mumbled above her ear. Even though she was still standing sideways, he tightened his arm around her, his embrace crumpling one of her shoulders against him, getting her more and more wet by the moment. "He promised me…"

Heedless of the cold, wet discomfort, soaking through her clothes, Momiji put her hand on his shoulder.

"_He promised me!_" Kusanagi repeated in anguish, louder this time.

"P-promised you what?" Momiji asked, unsure of what exactly they were talking about.

"I told Susano-oh I would _not_ let him sacrifice you again!" came the adamant reply and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. "I'll die before I let that happen!"

"Who said he was going to sacrifice me?" she asked hollowly, trying to calm Kusanagi's agitation.

"Why else would he have come here?" he demanded wildly, finally pushing her away from him so he could look at her. "And why would he ask that of you? I don't understand!" he rambled on to himself aloud, voicing the same disturbing questions that had surfaced in his dark thoughts over and over for the last hour. "He already knows that your blood can no longer stop the Tengugaki!! So why!? What exactly did he say to you, Momiji!?"

Momiji turned away from his probing eyes, picking up the crumpled towel to try and give herself some time to compose her features into a suitably calm expression. "He told me not to give up – to believe in myself," she explained. "I think he was afraid that would happen since the Tengugaki are going to be even harder to destroy now –"

It sounded weak, even to her own ears, she thought, inwardly wincing. Hesitantly she raised her gaze to Kusanagi, knowing that if she were to allay his fears she must look him in the eyes, even though she herself was afraid he would somehow see the truth she was trying so hard to hide from him. Giving him her best smile, she reached up with the towel to gently brush the moisture away from his chest and shoulders.

"I don't believe you," he said lowly voice, and she found it difficult to keep the towel moving across his chest.

"Why don't you believe me?" she finally asked as she lowered her hand, still struggling to hold onto her calm demeanor. "Why would I lie to you?"

"Because, " he bit out, latching onto her arm and pulling her swiftly against him, "because," he repeated unsteadily, his hand cradling the back of her head, "you know how terrified I am of losing you, Momiji."

Momiji swallowed the rising lump in her throat. "I don't want to lose you any more than you want to lose me," she told him shakily.

His arm tightened around her, and then the ground began to vibrate. It was a small tremor at first, but it quickly strengthened until the entire room was shuddering. Before she even had a chance to think, earthquake', an alarm was going off and by then, she knew it was something far more sinister than a simple earthquake.

T_his is it, _Momiji thought as Kusanagi thrust her away from himself and, his face set in grim lines, began throwing on his clothes while she just stood by and watched.

The room was still rumbling as he once again pulled her close for a long moment. "You'll be all right," he told her tightly, pain lacing his words, "I'll make sure of it."

"Kusanagi – " She wanted so much to tell him not to go – instead she said, "I love you. Please, be careful…"

"I will –" He held her for only a few seconds longer, and then, abruptly releasing her, he left without looking back.

Momiji watched him disappear, and even though he could no longer hear her, she whispered, "You _will _be all right. _I'll _make sure of it."

Momiji changed her clothes, putting on her ceremonial robes and then returned to the observation booth. The sirens were still sounding and the ground was still trembling, but the terrible shuddering of before had subsided. Now it was more like a muted thundering, the vibrations like the signal of a massive, oncoming storm. She turned on the TLTS system and was horrified to see it was awash with so many blips that it almost looked like one solid mass of light. _All of those people, _she thought, remembering those that she'd passed in the streets on her way to Midori's apartment. _What would become of them all?_

Suddenly she felt so tired and so old, much older than her nineteen years. _What would become of all of those people if her plan failed? _Reaching over into the cart, Momiji retrieved her tantou from its hiding place.

"It will work," she told herself vehemently and picked up the two-way radio.

Standing in the very back of the parking garage for the second time in the space of a few short hours, Momiji waited nervously, the Tengugaki energy pounding around her, coming from every direction. Sweeping the yellow beam of her flashlight from left to right, she fingered the small pouch she'd hung around her neck which contained the small leftover ceramics she'd managed to pilfer from storage. It had been amazingly easy, not that doing it had given her any great sense of accomplishment. Far from it, in fact.

Everyone had been scrambling to respond to all the Emergency Orders that were flying in from both the TAC and the Self-Defense Force. No one was concerned about thefts, which, she supposed was her good fortune, although it did little to alleviate the fear twisting inside her. There was something monstrous out there – something bigger and darker that possessed a more terrifying energy than the normal Tengugaki, and Momiji knew it had to be Akumakai; the Arch Daemon Tamanasu had mentioned.

Thoughts of her husband and the rest of her TAC friends constantly battled to dominate her mind as she agonized over what they were facing out there. It made her want to forget about waiting for Mr. Futeki and head out on her own. But to do so would be foolish as well as dangerous – she fingered the pouch one more time, wondering if the ceramics would be enough to keep the Tengugaki from recognizing her energy pattern. It made her uneasy knowing how strongly she could feel their energy despite the ceramics – if she could feel their's, did that mean they could feel her energy just as well?

Stay calm, she told herself. There was only one of her and hundreds of them – the ceramics should be enough to mute the energy of one individual. At least, she desperately hoped so, for it would make getting where she needed to go much easier; and if it didn't work – well, perhaps Kusanagi, Murakumo and the TAC could keep the Tengugaki busy enough for her to be able to slip their notice for just long enough.

Momiji jumped a little as the mechanized grinding of the gate leading into the garage sprang into life, breaking into her thoughts. She immediately turned her flashlight off, praying that it would be Mr. Futeki coming down the ramp.

It was, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly drove towards her, obviously looking for her and not seeing her. To help him out, she turned her flashlight back on and waved it at him.

"You were right about the radio," he said, waving the transceiver at her. "The guards posted outside let me through without any trouble after I gave them your name and they looked up the serial number – who would've believe it would be that easy?"

With a short laugh, he tucked the radio back into his jack as he rolled to a stop next to her.

"Well - you ready?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Without getting off his bike he propped his foot against the cement for balance and gave her a scrutinizing glance as she nodded.

"That's quite some get-up you're wearing, sister," he told her, looking at the billowing fabric of her white hakama sticking out from beneath her winter coat over which she had slung the holster strap for several firearms.

"I believe in being prepared," she replied, reaching up and conscientiously adjusting one of the straps.

"My lord, it's like you're the miko from hell," he mumbled and then with a sniff added, "are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation and then pointed to a rather substantial canvas bag at her feet. "Do you think we can get this on the bike?"

"What the hell is that?" he asked, his voice cracking in surprise.

"More ammunition," she succinctly replied the succinct reply as she watched him lower his kickstand and climb off the bike.

"You're already a regular one man army!" He waved his leather clad arm in her direction. "What more could you possibly need?"

"They're not for me; they're for you."

His expression became dour at that and she watched him heft the bag up and anchor it behind the seat with a few cords he took from a small storage compartment near the rear of the bike.

"That's reassuring," he said sourly, "expecting a butt load of trouble, are we?"

"You drove here," Momiji remarked, "you should know what's out there."

For a minute he didn't say anything and when he finally did reply all of his bravado was gone.

"Yeah, there's a lot of those ugly buggers out there – The police are doing their best to get people into shelters, but, it seems that humans are a helluva lot slower than they are…" he trailed off, and finished strapping the bag to the bike before he turned, looking directly at her when he finished, "I almost didn't make it here, missy, and if it had been anybody else that'd asked, I would've said to hell with it and gotten to a shelter." He got on his bike then, and looking straight ahead, conceded, "But, you're not just anybody."

Touched, Momiji was unable to think of a reply. So she stood there awkwardly, until she noticed his little sarcastic sneer was back and he pointed to her, saying, "Anyone can see that just by lookin' at 'ya. 'Better be glad them cops is busy, missy. Otherwise they might be locking you away in your own shelter – one with a guarded door and padded walls!" Then he fixed an eye on her and asked austerely, ""You gonna get on, or what?"

Taking a deep breath, Momiji nodded and climbed on behind him. Mr. Futeki made a wide sweeping circle and slowly drove back towards the parking ramp.

"Uhh, I'm not trying to rush you or anything," Mr. Futeki said as they neared the ramp, "but you might want to tell me where it is we're heading before we actually get outside. It gets really ugly once we get past the barricaded guard line – which probably won't be easy since you're with me and you've already told me that you don't want them to know you've left."

"We need to get to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Offices in West Shinjuku," she told him, "all of the strong seismic activity seems to be coming from that area which leads me to believe that is where our attack will be most effective. I think our easiest route will be through the subway tunnels. We can follow the Marunouchi line tunnel until it crosses over the Ōedo line. Then we'll double back there and exit at the Tochomae Station. The Government Office building has an underground entrance. We should be able to get directly into it from the subway station."

"Tochomae, eh?" he said, beginning to urge the bike up the ramp. "But are you sure that you wanna go through the tunnels?"

"Yes – normally this would be where the Tengugaki are at their strongest – but now that Akumakai is here, I'm almost certain that most of them are hunting above-ground."

"Who the hell is Akumakai?" Mr. Futeki wanted to know.

"Their leader –" Momiji responded and then stopped as they emerged from the parking ramp to the loud sound of gunfire.

She felt Mr. Futeki lean low towards the front of the bike and as he revved the bike engine he yelled, "Hang on, sister, and put your head down!"

Momiji ducked, pressing her face against him and they shot forward. She was vaguely aware of the blur of Self-Defense Force soldiers rushing to the left and right of them; most of them too busy with the Tengugaki to pay any heed to them. But as they approached the demarcation line, she could hear cries for them to stop. Mr. Futeki tensed and she automatically tightened her arms around him. Momiji shut her eyes as she heard a garbled cry rising from Mr. Futeki. They hit something then, and parts of a wooden barricade went flying in all directions.

She flinched as several pieces battered her shins and ankles, but she kept her face against Mr. Futeki until she felt the bike turn west and heard the engine whine as he quickly accelerated to evade the shouts of protest from the soldiers they'd left behind. Braving a look over her shoulder, Momiji saw that they weren't going to be pursued. Keeping the Tengugaki at bay was obviously more important than pursuing two humans reckless enough to throw themselves straight into the lions' den.

"Hey!" Mr. Futeki shouted at her, drawing her attention away from the TAC building that was fast receding into the darkness, "how 'bout using one of those things you got strapped on? The nearest subway station is still two blocks away and we've already been tagged as food!"

He pointed ahead and Momiji peered over his shoulder and saw, silhouetted in the motorcycles headlight a group of Tengugaki crouched in the middle of an intersection between abandoned cars, waiting for them. Momiji's eyes immediately darted past the empty cars littering the streets to scan the sidewalks left and right of them, but it was too dark to see anything.

"God knows how many of them are skulking around that we can't see," Mr. Futeki muttered, giving voice to Momiji's thoughts, "lucky for us, though, there are all these abandoned cars to act as a buffer. The only ones we really have to worry about are in places where there's room for them to maneuver."

That would be intersections – like the one ahead, Momiji thought grimly. Two more blocks meant at least one more intersection after this one. Reaching up she quickly unsnapped one of the guns from the holster with her left hand and then unsnapped another one with her right. Holding onto the guns and Mr. Futeki was going to prove something of a challenge, especially if he started trying any fancy maneuvering.

"Are you ready?" he asked taughtly, as they slowly approached the intersection.

"Yes," Momiji nodded, "-but try not to swerve too much – or I might fall of!"

"Understood - here we go!" Mr. Futeki shouted, and once again, he gunned the engine, accelerating as they entered the intersection while the Tengugaki swarmed in their direction.

Momiji didn't wait for them to close in this time like she had the last. She rapidly fired her pistol, watching in horror as a wave of slime covered flesh and red-slitted eyes moved ever closer to them. There were so many of them, one right next to each other that none of her bullets missed, but neither did any of her bullets seem to be making a huge difference in the number of them. Hurriedly, she tried raising her other gun and fired right into the center of the swarm. A bright flare erupted in the darkness and as it struck, it caused chaos and confusion among the Tengugaki.

"Hurry! Go!" Momiji urged Mr. Futeki, peering through the long strands of chestnut hair streaming around her face as she looked back over her shoulder.

Her eyes lingered on the burning flare embedded in one of the Tengugaki and a group of others that were milling around it, blinded by the light. Some on the fringes that were less affected by the flare broke off from the rest and began pursuing them, but as Mr. Futeki maneuvered the motorcycle into the narrow channel formed by the row of abandoned cars in the next street, they quickly gave up. Perhaps they preferred to search the dark buildings for less agile prey than waste their energy chasing two measly humans down.

Thankful for a moment of respite, Momiji quickly put it to good use. Tucking her nine millimeter back in its holster, she reached for another flare and reloaded her gun.

"You done yet?" Mr. Futeki fired over his shoulder, "we're coming up on the next intersection!"

"Ready!" Momiji yelled, and they blasted through this intersection the same as they had the last.

Once through, Momiji again reloaded but this time, instead of rearming herself with her nine millimeter, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a grenade. Thrusting it past his ear, she said, "Here - as soon as we get within range of the subway entrance, I need you to pull the pin, count to three and then throw this."

Without a word, Mr. Futeki took it leaving her free to withdraw the other flare gun she'd thought to strap over her coat. _Not far now,_ she told herself – but she knew that this was to be the hardest part of their journey yet. They would have to slow to make a turn towards the sidewalk and any Tengugaki lurking in the vicinity would be able to take advantage of that fact. Accuracy was proving to be a moot point, and Momiji prayed that the Grenade would be more effective at causing chaos than the flares had been since they didn't have the speed or the obstacles to help them evade the enemy.

Mr. Futeki slowed the bike and nosed it to the right. Neither she nor he was surprised to see the sickly yellow glimmer of slimy skin reflected in the bike's headlamp as they headed towards the sidewalk. They were already poised to strike, and Momiji tightened her grip on her flare guns.

"Stop!" she yelled before they cleared the cars on the street.

"What!?" Mr. Futeki cried. "Are you deranged!?"

"Stop and throw the grenade!" she insisted urgently.

Mr. Futeki threw a quick glance down the sidewalk towards the stairs leading to the subway tunnel before looking back at the Tengugaki in front of them. "We're not close enough to the stairs!" he argued.

"It doesn't matter! If you don't throw it, we won't make it!" Momiji cried, "Just throw it and then make a beeline towards the station – don't worry about what's in front of us – hopefully the grenade will blow a hole that we'll be able to go through…"

- _Hopefully; _she thought_, and if not, everything would end here…_

After a slight hesitation, Mr. Futeki gave a curt nod. Keeping his eyes on the throng of Tengugaki watching them from the sidewalk, he slowed to a halt and then pulled the grenade pin, lobbing it towards the Tengugaki that had begun to close in on them after the bike had stopped moving.

With a curse under his breath, he slammed on the gas. The bike spun its tires with a loud squeal before it finally surged forward, and grimly he hoped the grenade would go off before he and Momiji reached the line of Tengugaki. Otherwise, they'd be blown to bits as well. Concentrating all of his focus straight ahead, he was caught off guard, flinching, when he felt the recoil of Momiji's elbow against his ribs. Belatedly he realized that she'd just fired her flare along the same path his grenade had taken and he convulsively tightened his hands on the handlebars of his bike, waiting.

Less than a second later, there was a loud explosion and a momentary blinding light as both the grenade went off and the flare struck its target. Again, a string of obscenities rose to his lips as he threw his hand up, shielding his face from pieces of flying shrapnel and smelly chunks of slimy flesh that pelted him. Unable to see where he was going, he turned the nose of the bike in what he hoped was the direction of the subway, trying not to notice from the corners of his eyes just how close the Tengugaki were crowding around them. Behind him, Momiji was moving frantically replacing her empty flare guns with the nine millimeter in order to keep shooting.

Sooner than he realized and not quite believing it; they were at the station stairs. The continual sound of Momiji's gun and her odd twisted position behind him told Mr. Futeki that they were being pursued. Reaching down he grabbed hold of the one hand she had wrapped around his waist to better anchor her and then warned, "Hang on – it's gonna get a little bumpy," before he sent his motorcycle plunging down the pitch-black stairs. Momiji continued to fire, and several times he heard a guttural squeal when one of the Tengugaki went down. By the time he reached the empty ticket gate, she had stopped firing – whether it was because she was out of bullets or because she was out of targets, he was afraid to ask.

Without hesitating, he sent the bike through the gate and across the wide empty expanse of the platform until he was at the edge. Turning, they rode along the white line until they neared the station wall and then Mr. Futeki sent the bike over the edge, towards the tracks. For a single moment, it felt as if they were hovering in a void, the headlight of the bike illuminating nothing but continual darkness in front of them. And then the bike came crashing down onto the tracks and skidded. Mr. Futeki let both of his feet drag the ground, struggling for control and after a few long seconds, he managed to get them bumping along the tracks as fast as he could manage without vibrating them right off the bike.

"How's it going back there, sister?" he finally asked, "- Anything coming?"

"No – not that I can see," Momiji informed him cautiously after a long minute.

Suddenly and irrationally, feeling much relieved despite the fact that their situation hadn't really improved, he loosened his grip on the handlebars and a lopsided grin exposed a set of teeth which were better off not seen in the light of day.

"Hey I think I see the Ōedo line tunnel coming up on the … _ whoa_!" Mr. Futeki exclaimed as the bumps in the road suddenly became large chunks of churned up earth and gravel. "What the hell?"

His sudden outburst distracted her from trying to keep a sharp eye for signs of trouble from the rear, and she jerked her head around to peer over Mr. Futeki's shoulder. Before she could get a clear look, her nose was smashed up against the middle of his back, her hands tightening convulsively around his waist as they veered sharply to the right, tipping at a precarious angle, the back wheel of the bike fish-tailing back and forth as upturned rubble churned loosely beneath them. Dimly, Momiji could hear Mr. Futeki cursing as he tried to get the bike back under control, but the ground was giving way too much and they went down in a hard skid sliding a good fifteen feet before they came to a stop.

Before they had even come to a complete halt, Momiji was struggling to free her leg from beneath the bike, aware that the narrow beam from the headlight was bouncing off the back of a derailed train car; a sign that something could be lurking within the darkness. The earth was rolling strongly now, most likely because they were getting closer and closer to Akumakai, and she strained wildly, partially aware that Mr. Futeki was oddly quiet. The bike's engine murmured in a low idle and as Momiji pushed and kicked to get free, she stretched her ears, listening for the sound of ragged, hoarse breathing, praying that the Tengugaki that had destroyed the train had moved on.

Finally free, her right leg partially numb from the blow it had taken, she stumbled to her feet, immediately reaching for one of her flare guns.

"Mr. Futeki!" Momiji called urgently as she held it out in front of her, her eyes trying to pierce the dark veil around her. "Mr. Futeki, are you all right?" she called again, her eyes darting to his back, before shifting away towards the train as she thought she heard something move.

Swiftly she swung around to face the shadowy silhouette of the train, her face twisting in dread as she heard it again: the low guttural sound of a Tengugaki growl. Already panting, Momiji's chest began to heave even harder in fear. The thin beam of light from the bike was too low to the ground to be of any use in helping her aim. Quickly, she fired her flare gun towards the train car already reaching for the nine millimeter before the flare had struck, knowing that her reflexes weren't fast enough to beat the enemy.

Sure enough, as soon as the flare hit, the Tengugaki creature erupted from the train and headed towards her. Immediately she started firing, her shots going wide as she tried to anticipate the erratic movements of the Tengugaki in the flickering flare light.

"To hell with that!" she heard Mr. Futeki say from behind her, and just before he tackled her, he yelled, Let's see you eat this, you slimy trash bag!

Then he wrapped his burly arm around her and slung her to the ground beneath him. Unprepared, she went down hard, knocking the wind out of herself and then immediately choked on a mouthful of soil as she gasped for breath. A split second later, there was the loud sound of a hand grenade going off, but it was almost completely overshadowed by the rising death shriek that echoed through the tunnel. It rose and expanded until she thought she could bear the sound no longer, the wailing of the lost souls tearing at her own before it finally began to wan, leaving Momiji weak and shaking.

"My god," Mr. Futeki panted weakly, "my god, my god, my god…" He rolled away from her onto his back, throwing his forearm up over his eyes so that all Momiji could see in the wavering flare light was the twisted grimace of his mouth. That was too damn… creepy…" His voice trailed off and he sat up, trying to pull himself together. "the other ones never sounded like that."

Momiji gazed at the carnage of scattered humans that littered the area around the train. Because of the darkness and because her focus had been on the Tengugaki, she hadn't been aware of them before. But now she couldn't tear her eyes away from them, her throat painfully constricting, imagining what their last moments must have been like.

"It's because this one had consume a lot of human souls," she replied tightly. "I doubt he was the only one here, judging from all the holes in the ground," Momiji said, indicating to the churned up rubble along the tracks, "—but the others must have been too anxious to get aboveground and left the train fro him –"

Tensing, she broke off and turned her head sharply towards the direction from which they had come. What that movement she heard in the distance? Had the cry of the dying Tengugaki alerted others to their presence? She strained to listen, but the continual rumbling of the earth made it difficult to hear.

"We should get going," Momiji told him., hurrying over to the bike and hastily shoving back into the duffel bag some of the other grenades that Mr. Futeki had partially emptied in his frantic attempt to find something to attack with. "I don't know how much time we have left, but we need to get above ground as quickly as possible." She peered at Mr. Futeki who was climbing to his feet. "We're very close now, "Akumakai's energy is getting stronger. I just hope we can get to the Government Offices in time –"

Momiji broke off and looked away unable to voice her fears. Her eyes fell to the motionless victims around her, and she prayed that when she and Mr. Futeki finally made it to their destination that she wouldn't arrive to find the same fate had befallen Kusanagi and the TAC.


	46. 45: Rise of the Eternal Dragon

Dreamer Awakened

CHAPTER FOURTY – FIVE

Muscles aching, the cuts and slashes across his shoulders, chest and back burning, Kusanagi grimly watched as Tamanasu retreated away from him and Murakumo, back towards the grotesque, tree-like form that overshadowed the great cherry tree in Susano-oh Park. Akumakai, the great Arch Daemon: Kusanagi had never imagined that he would be this massive. – He was even bigger than Susano-oh had been in his transformed, plant-like state of three years ago when Momiji had been forced to perform her right of Matsuri, and Akumakai seemed just as indomitable if not more so than Susano-oh had been.

How much longer could they keep fighting before they succumbed? A weary voice inside him conjectured as he observed Akumakai impale Tamanasu upon one of the many withered vines that trailed out from the great trunk of his body. They had ten, maybe fifteen minutes before Tamanasu re-emerged and Kusanagi had lost count of the number of times that he and Murakumo had weakened him, almost to the point of death, before he would retreat beyond their reach, behind an energy barrier that surrounded Akumakai to recover and recharge before returning to fight. Kusanagi and Murakumo had tried many times to find a way to breach the barrier, but even with the added strength that the ceramic bracelets allowed them, the barrier seemed impervious to all of their attacks.

Neither did the TAC's artillery fire have an effect on it. They had repeatedly been forced to retreat from the vines laying thick across the city. The huge, pulsating veins of Akumakai penetrated both steel and concrete to invade the shops, offices and apartment buildings as the Arch Daemon continued to search for human energy. As of now, the TAC were no longer intent on finding a way to drive the enemy off. Instead they were just fighting to stay alive as the Defense Force scrambled to try and secure places for the city's residents where the vines could not reach.

Did such a place even exist? Kusanagi wondered bleakly, Momiji's face rising before his eyes. He would fight to the bitter end for her, but, he realized, that was what it was coming to, even if the Americans did step in. He felt close to exhaustion, and flicking a quick gaze over at Murakumo who was looking around at the streets teeming with parasitic Tengugaki but devoid of all human life, he knew that the Aragami lord was just as exhausted.

And yet, there was something about Murakumo's demeanor that struck Kusanagi. It seemed as if he was waiting for something.

Watching and waiting.

It had been that way for some time now. At first Kusanagi thought that Murakumo was searching for a way to get past Tamanasu's defenses so that he could destroy the Tengugaki's mitama. But Tamanasu assiduously guarded it no matter how many times they had sought to attack his one vulnerability. Then when Tamanasu had retreated to the haven of Akumakai's protective cocoon, Kusanagi thought that perhaps Murakumo was looking for another way to breach the Arch Daemon's barrier. But that wasn't it either.

Murakumo's attention was focused neither on Tamanasu nor Akumakai. _So what the hell was he waiting on?_ Kusanagi wondered irascibly. And then he knew. Even before he saw the quicksilver flash of awareness flit across Murakumo's face, Kusanagi had felt it and he turned, his heart freezing in his chest as Momiji's pure energy flowed around him. He looked across the expanse of Susano-oh Park towards the office buildings and his eyes found her immediately.

No! _It couldn't be!_

He remained hanging motionless in the air, hoping that he was hallucinating, unwilling to believe what his senses were telling him. _There's no way she could be here!!_

But he knew it was real when he heard Murakumo's soft and approving, "Bravo, Kushinada."

Gasping for breath, Momiji paused at the door leading to the roof of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building and shined her flashlight back down the stairs, looking for Mr. Futeki. He was half a flight down below her, doubled over and huffing as he trudged slowly upwards.

He irritably glanced up when the beam of light hit him, the light glinting off the ring in his nose, "Shine that damn thing somewhere else!" he grunted crankily, "It's not like I'd suddenly disappear on you –" he mumbled sourly, still huffing, and then added, "hell, all you have to do is listen for my wheezing to know where I'm at!"

Momiji ignored his surly remarks and shifted the light so that it was shining straight down at the ground. 'You shouldn't have come all this way," she told him dampeningly, still distressed that he'd refused to let her do the rest of this by herself. "If the Tengugaki manage to make it all the way up here before I finish my ceremony, then you'll be trapped with no way to escape."

"Well, that's exactly why I _did_ come, sister," he huffed, bending over and putting his hands on his knees as he finally made it to the landing where she was. "How were you planning on finishing your ceremony if they do catch up?" he inquired, and when she made no reply added, "with your little bag of tricks," he pointed to the bag slung over her shoulder, "if they do come, I should be able to at least buy enough time so you can finish it."

"Yes, but what if – what if my plan doesn't work?" she asked diffidently, some of her fears starting to take firm root in her mind now that they were here. "What if I try this and it doesn't stop them!? You'll be trapped up here, with no one to save you!"

Mr. Futeki shrugged and took the flashlight from her. "If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work. Me being up here or down on the streets isn't gonna make a whole buncha difference, sister. You're the only chance we have, that's all there is to it," he grabbed her by the shoulder then, his fingers tightening briefly before he said succinctly,, shaking her for emphasis with every word, "so - don't – screw – it – up!"

Momiji nodded and with a deep breath, turned and opened the door. Outside, she was a little surprised to see that the sky was beginning to turn to grey: a sign that dawn was approaching. Shedding her weapons and her coat so that she was dressed only in her ceremonial robes, she slowly made her way past the rows of satellite dishes littering the roof, her eyes turned towards Susano-oh park which the Government Building faced. Her fingers went up curling around the ceramics that hung from her neck as she surveyed Akumakai before her gaze found the tiny specks hovering a cautious distance away from him.

"Kusanagi," she murmured, her fingers clenching tightly around the bag. Swiveling away from the view, she looked back over her shoulder at Mr. Futeki who stood to the right of the roof entrance, several of the firearms that she had placed in her duffel bag, now slung across his chest, with a small pouch of grenades belted around his waist.

He looked ready, she mused, but was she?

Closing her eyes, she tried to quiet the clamoring of her heart, and as the beats slowed, she heard Susano-oh's voice.

"Remember well, Momiji Kushinada," his voice whispered, "It is your power that will save us all." Momiji opened her eyes and looked around, unsure if she was just recalling what he'd told her, or if he was truly there. She could not see him, and yet, his voice came to her again, louder this time, and she knew that he was there beside her, "You can make Them understand. You can help Them see the future. Just believe in yourself, and it will happen."

"Believe," she murmured, her eyes crossing the distance to find the small figure of her husband. "Let me keep you safe, Kusanagi," she whispered.

The sky was getting lighter with every passing minute now, and a small breeze stirred the tendrils of hair above her eyes. Still holding the ceramics, she finally made to lift them over her head, knowing as she did so, she was removing the only barrier she had left. Once it was gone, there was no going back – but really, she silently conceded, once she'd left the TAC building, she'd known there was no going back.

Clasping the bag in her hand, she held it at arms length, hesitating a moment before she finally let it go. The second it left her fingers she felt a great pulse rush through her body; a secondary awareness that had been hindered before, and a hard chill shot up her spine. _He senses me,_ she thought, eyeing the twisted mass of Akumakai, _not only_ _he but Tamanasu as well, _she realized, seeing the Tengugaki's limp form suspended in front of Akumakai's body. And then a more familiar energy flooded towards her and she could feel the sense of urgency in it. Her eyes again sought out Kusanagi, and even from this distance, she could tell he had started to move towards her.

The last person her eyes found was Murakumo, and even though she knew there was no way he could hear her, she softly pleaded, "Please! Don't forget your promise to me." 

Momiji reached down and pulled out the tantou that had remained tucked snugly at her waist on her long journey here, her mind focusing solely on the gold and bronze chokin images that gleamed dully in the gray morning light. She held it aloft, the tip pointed towards the heavens as she prepared to unsheathe it, a vortex of dark emotions swirling deep inside her.

"Unless the Souls can be made to understand that the time of Sacrifice has changed… they will only consume you…"

Susano-oh's words to her at the Pool of Restoration from what seemed like many lifetimes ago. Were her actions tantamount to throwing her life away? It was up to her to make the Souls of the Blade understand, and break the links that forged the chain to the past.

"Free their souls, Momiji," she heard Susano-oh speak from within her, his presence as a flickering candle flame buffeted by the winds of her fear, "let your heart free them from the torment of the past so you can fight for your future."

Momiji nodded in understanding, but she could still feel the fear and helplessness twisting inside her. She was so afraid that it wouldn't work, afraid that once she pulled the blade free, she wouldn't be unable to change anything, that the Souls would indeed sacrifice her. But as her eyes flickered towards Susano-oh Park, other feelings began to rise.

Didn't she want to protect those that she loved? To help those too weak to defend themselves? She had to have faith. She had to believe. _Help me save them_, she silently begged, gazing at the dagger, the chokin images beginning to glow as the first rays of sunlight peaked across the city.

"Please forgive me for not having properly purified myself," she murmured as her fingers tightened around the handle, "but there was not time… I hope you understand," she apologized, raising her other hand, finally prepared to pull away the scabbard, "-or at least, I hope you _will_ understand."

Faith, she silently repeated over and over as the blade was unleashed, _please hear me and know…_

Once the blade was bare, the shockwave was immediate, and the voices began clamoring inside her head. She tried not to be afraid as she listened to them, instead, she continued to silently plead for their help as the knife in her hand grew hot and the voices in her head grew louder.

"Momiji!" Kusanagi cried when he realized that she was perched atop the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, "Dammit!"

He started forward but didn't make it very far before he felt arms slip beneath his armpits from the back, circling around his shoulders and back again behind his neck to hold him in a tight grip.

"What the!?" he cried as he turned his head left and right, trying to get a clear view of Murakumo as his fury began to rise. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"I'm keeping my promise," Murakumo replied in a low voice, tightening his arms more as Kusanagi began to struggle even harder to get free.

"Promise!?" Kusanagi spat scornfully, "What promise is that!? The promise to betray me and the humans!?"

"No," Murakumo said coldly, "The promise I made to the Kushinada to keep you from interfering."

The shock of his words took all the fight out of Kusanagi for a moment and his eyes trailed back to the figure in white perched like a fragile bird atop the building, his heart wrenching in his chest.

"Why would she?..." he mumbled hollowly.

"Because she knows what a fool you are, Kusanagi," Murakumo told him silkily. "She knows that you would try to stop her from doing this, even though she is the only one of us all that might have a chance to win."

Their exchange was interrupted by taunting laughter. It floated towards them, and together they turned to look at Tamanasu who was watching them from within Akumakai's barrier, still occupied with recharging his energy, but strong enough to be cognizant of what was happening.

"How obliging of your Kushinada," he drawled in amusement, "to bring herself out here so I don't have to go looking for her." Kusanagi's eyes narrowed but he remained silent, unwilling to respond to Tamanasu's taunts. "I had thought to kill you and the Aragami scum lord first, but I think it will be much more amusing to kill her first, don't you think? –"

Tamanasu finally struck a nerve.

Kusanagi would die before he let him touch Momiji! He opened his mouth to say as much, but instead turned his head sharply as a bright light exploded from the direction of the Government Building. There was Momiji, standing amid an ethereal light, her hair streaming out in all directions as if moved by a great wind, even though the air was still. In her hand a brightly illuminated dagger was held poised out in front of her, and Kusanagi gaped at the spectacle in utter stupefaction.

Tamanasu too had seen the light and his earlier amusement was gone, replaced by a malignant intensity as he narrowly studied the scene. Then suddenly Kusanagi heard voices, a multitude of them, all coming from Momiji, and a horrible foreboding gripped him as words he could not understand echoed around him, becoming louder and stronger with every passing second.

"Hitoandi kaeru dota Anjin –"

Murakumo drew in his breath at the words, and somehow, Kusanagi knew Murakumo understood them.

"What's happening!?" He demanded in confusion, again trying to break free from Murakumo's grip.

"It's the Ceremony of Sacrifice," Murakumo told him softly, "words that I haven't heard in thousands of years…"

"What is she saying!?" Kusanagi asked, his struggles becoming more and more pronounced.

"Breath return to Wind," Murakumo began to translate and then stopped and harshly ordered, "stop struggling, Kusanagi! I can't let you go after her! Your time to protect her is over!"

"Idiot!" Kusanagi screamed at him, his voice and movements wild now, "I know that! I'm not trying to protect her! But if she's going to die, then I will die with her! So LET ME GO, DAMMIT!!"

"I can't," Murakumo hissed through gritted teeth. "I promised her I would protect _you_, you fool!"

Murakumo yanked hard against Kusanagi's shoulders, trying to subdue him, but they both stopped struggling against each other when Tamanasu suddenly burst free form Akumakai and headed purposefully towards Momiji.

Finally, Murakumo let go of Kusanagi and he immediately took off in Momiji's direction, intent on catching Tamanasu before he reached Momiji. With a loud curse, Murakumo followed, knowing that if Tamanasu reached her before she finished her ceremony, that all was lost.

Use my eyes… please see them, Momiji struggled to hang onto her thoughts as she felt control of her body slipping away.

You must help me …

…save…

…them…

Her pleas continued silently as she focused with difficulty on Kusanagi and Murakumo before the Souls overtook her and her eyes returned without her volition back to the blade in front of her. Feeling helpless, the voices began to rise in her throat, and her struggle to make the Souls understand was not enough to keep the sounds from spilling from her lips.

"_Hitoande kaeru dota Anjin_," Momiji heard herself say, "_Ikutian alo sasaryu dego alo Athamos_."

Just like at the iwatto, her left hand rose and brushed her middle fingers against her lips before moving outwards in a sweeping gesture towards the horizon; and as she moved, she was astonished to hear another voice rising directly behind her, translating her words with serene clarity so that Momiji might understand and she was left to wonder if this meant that the Souls understood her thoughts.

"Breath return to Wind," the woman's mellifluous voice intoned, "Following the whispers of the Gods."

Momiji's fingers moved to encircle the glowing blade of the Tantou, the calm intonation of those speaking through her unaltered by the pain she felt as she sliced the flesh of her hand. "_Desunde kaeru dota Samai_," she breathed as the blood began to trickle down her wrist, "_Tionan sankaigiran endota alo hitora dego Ichija_."

"Blood return to Sand, falling unrestrained into the flow of Time" the woman translated, her voice right next to Momiji's ear now, as if she was leaning forward to whisper it to her.

"_Ta Sonandiendo dego miesunde_,.. _Dota besuke pa alo Esuande dego Deisora unbei Maisora_," These last words had not been spoken at the iwatto, but as before, Momiji's eyes shifted towards the blood trailing down her arm, listening as the unseen woman behind her again translated.

"A Sacrifice of Flesh -" the woman began, and Momiji watched, as the ephemeral outline of the woman's arms came up, merging with her own, a strange vibrating sensation buzzing through her as ghostly fingers joined with hers, wrapping themselves securely around the blade. "-- to call upon the Souls of the Earth and Sky." With these words, Momiji's head turned, the approaching figures of Tamanasu, Kusanagi and Murakumo reflected in the depths of her eyes as the knife was quickly pulled towards her body.

It was over in a matter of seconds, her breath suspended as white-hot pain tore through her chest where the blade penetrated. For a moment, darkness tinged the edges of her awareness, and she was surprised to see the back of the woman dressed in a white tunic as she passed through Momiji. Her form was translucent, and she shimmered with an unearthly light, little golden spheres bobbing around her; her limbs graceful and slender, with long, black, flowing hair and great, feathered, iridescent wings adorning her back.

B-beautiful… Momiji thought as she struggled to keep her thoughts coherent, continuing to gaze at the apparition. The drifting spheres seemed drawn to her essence and as they touched her, they were absorbed into her shimmering aura causing the lines of her body to become less and less transparent, save for her arms, which were still merged with Momiji's.

Momiji could feel her body begin to sway, and, the voices that had been cacophonous and uncontrollable before fell eerily silent, bringing stillness to Momiji's lips so that Kusanagi's tortured scream rang loudly in her ears.

For the first time since the Ceremony began, Momiji was able to look down. She stared at the dagger, numbly pondering the trickle of not blood but golden-white light that escaped from around the edges of the embedded blade. It was warm against her hands and it moved away from her body, bobbing and weaving, forming thin graceful lines in the air around her like the orbs had that day from the iwatto before they had bombarded her, and disappeared into her skin. Now they flowed from her into the dark haired woman and as the flow became thicker and brighter, Momiji began to feel strange, as if her body was becoming too heavy for her soul.

Soon, the woman's arms were the only thing keeping Momiji's body standing and when she tightened her hands against the blade and pulled it free from Momiji's flesh, Momiji felt a twisting sensation and watched in shock as her own body sank slowly to the ground. All of the pain from before was completely gone, replaced by a feeling of buoyant strength.

Am I dead? She wondered; but no, she could breathe, she could feel, although it wasn't solely a voluntary action. It was as if she had merged with other souls, as if she had become part of another consciousness – a part of – the winged woman!? Was that possible!?

Reeling in confusion, Momiji felt a voice rising from her new body, the body of the winged woman which now stood firmly upon the ground, the Souls of the past Kushinada now solidified into the flesh and blood of this one entity. And as the last words of the Ceremony of Sacrifice rang out, they became Momiji's words, her heart and mind now at one with the Souls of the Blade.

"_Ajunae alo aramote dego alo roanin tetsuna; Dota jonki alo Taiende ubei ouenna vasa alo Saiumi – _Restore the power of the broken blade, to free the Light and seal away the Darkness!"

With the blade held in her right hand, the Kushinada turned, her eyes locking onto Tamanasu who was fast bearing down upon her, fangs bared in a grotesque snarl and his body coiled for a deadly strike. Their was neither fear nor anger upon her countenance as the Kushinada raised her left hand, her palm facing Tamanasu and as he reached the ledge of the building the aura surrounding her seemed to intensify, becoming bright gold. His claws were raised to strike, Kusanagi and Murakumo only a hairsbreadth distance behind him but still too far to keep him from attacking.

Tamanasu was so close to her that he could see the gash in her hand a reflection of the one that Momiji had made when she had grabbed the naked tantou blade to perform the first rite in the Ceremony of Sacrifice.

It's oozing light.

This was Tamanasu's last thought for the light suddenly shot outward from the wound with incredible swiftness, piercing the mitama in the middle of his forehead before it expanded, enveloping his whole body. The cold darkness of corrupted souls poured from his disintegrating body, the sound of their torment rising in the familiar sounding death shriek. But as they passed through the light coming from the Kushinada, the sound began to fade, and their darkness dwindled into swirling light that glowed with warmth and surged upwards in a spiraling pillar until it disappeared.

Shocked, Kusanagi checked his speed with a sudden wariness and behind him, Murakumo did the same. The woman's expression hadn't altered in the slightest during her attack on Tamanasu and as she turned her dark eyes in their direction, her countenance remained unchanging, smooth and blank as stone. Despite her lack of emotion, it seemed like she was waiting for something.

"You!" Kusanagi blared furiously with a dark scowl. She had directed the blade towards Momiji's chest – she could be as much their enemy as Akumakai was. "Who are you!?"

"Kusanagi."

The words sifted softly through his thoughts and Kusanagi grew still, his anger dying away.

"M-momiji?" he breathed unsteadily, first looking at the still heap of her body behind the woman with iridescent wings, and when he realized that her voice couldn't have possibly come from there, he looked wildly around.

"This is what I wanted – to be with you until the very end – to help you defeat Akumakai --… you don't have to be afraid for me anymore, Kusanagi..."

Her words faded away and a hard lump rose in Kusanagi's throat.

"Momiji!" Kusanagi cried, the raw emotion of his voice drowned out by the sound of groaning steel and concrete as the long vine-like tendrils were uprooted and sent moving rapidly in their direction. Akumakai shifted his attention, having perceived a new and much more dangerous enemy in the form of the winged woman after the rapid demise of Tamanasu.

Murakumo looked sharply back at Akumakai and then shot Kusanagi a warning look. But before he could say anything, the woman on the ledge who still held the dagger claimed their attention by speaking once again.

"Brothers of the Ancient Blade," she addressed forcefully, "forge anew your Destiny!" She aimed the Ceremonial Blade in their direction and it began to glow bright blue, wisps of paler, translucent blue unfolding from it in rapid spiraling twists and turns. Kusanagi watched it, and alarmingly found himself unable to move.

"Where Earth and Sky unite, the Eternal Dragon shall awaken!" the winged woman proclaimed, and a loud roaring filled Kusanagi's ears, swallowing up her words, the blood inside his veins beginning to burn.

The Kushinada stood, arm extended, watching the ribbons of blue color finally reach their targets. As they wrapped themselves around Murakumo and Kusanagi, a strange transformation commenced. Their bodies atomized, breaking apart until nothing remained but small particles of color that buzzed with agitated motion.

The wispy blue ribbons broke away then, rapidly returning to the blade, and the Kushinada stood waiting and watching as what remained of the two men merged, becoming one dark mass.

Inside it, a heartbeat was born. It pulsed a bright blue as the dark mass coiled and swirled, the head of a blue-green dragon, the Eternal Dragon, slowly emerging with a loud roar before subsiding back into its shapeless form. Moving purposefully, the bubbling darkness charged towards the winged woman, the dragon's head once again briefly emerging with a formidable roar. The Kushinada waited for it with her small blade extended and as the amorphous cloud forcefully struck it, it resonated with sound.

The tantou's light was momentarily doused as the dark cloud swarmed, obscuring the blade and most of the Kushinada's arm, but it didn't last long. The Blade of Sacrifice began to absorb the darkness, uniting with the Eternal Dragon to become a flickering blue flame that grew and elongated until it resembled a blazing naginata staff. Firmly holding the pole of the long, curved blade, the Kushinada lifted it over her head, the blade whirling in graceful circles as she swung it, the blue flames arcing out, leaving a luminous trail. The Kushinada continued to swing the Eternal Dragon Staff over her head before letting it sweep to her left and right sides, getting used to its weight while she kept a watchful eye on Akumakai, patiently waiting for the deadly tendrils that lay just beyond her sight, preparing to strike.

They came quickly; a barrage of them from every direction, and with one deadly sweep, the Kushinada obliterated them all, sending out an arc of light that crashed against neighboring buildings with a loud boom. Not waiting for a second attack, the Kushinada gripped the naginata with both hands and spread her wings, moving with determination towards the barrier that surrounded Akumakai. Again, she raised the staff above her head, letting it spin in graceful circles as she closed in on Akumakai, bringing it down only when she needed to counter the vines that the Arch Daemon was manipulating to try and strike her down.

Finally, she slowed, her iridescent wings making a soft rhythmic noise as they beat against the air and she let the Naginata come to a rest by her side. Her passionless eyes probed the twisted mass of undulating vines and trunk while Akumakai scrutinized her and her staff, his dark eyes glinting with malevolence.

"We have no fear of you, Kushinada," Akumakai sneered dismissively. "Your power to defeat us was nullified when we consumed the energy of the hybrid child –"

A small sound of derision escaped the Kushinada's lips, although her mask of calm never flickered. Again, she raised the naginata, and with both hands sent it spinning in a fast circle above her head.

Wings beating rapidly now, she braced her legs apart and with a hard slashing motion brought the naginata down, crying, "Eternal Dragon of Earth and Sky, come forth!"

As the blade sliced downward, the blue-green head of the flame dragon emerged with a loud roar, his body with broad wings and long tail pushing their way past the narrow confines of the naginata to unfold as an enormous, intimidating power. He was truly a sight to behold; all blue-green flame with red-gold eyes which regarded the Kushinada with a caged wildness, waiting for her command. The Kushinada glanced up into the dragon's eyes, feeling for the twined souls of Murakumo and Kusanagi. With a small nod, she turned, her gaze flickering over the now wary Akumakai.

With the snap of her wrist, she inclined the naginata forward, signaling the dragon to go. Rearing back his head, he gave a loud, shuddering growl, his wings stirring the wind so powerfully that it rattled the glass windows of the nearby buildings. The Kushinada pulled back, content to watch from a distance as the flaming dragon lunged, breaking through Akumakai's energy barrier without pause.

Akumakai's face sagged in shock and he quickly brought his arms up, cupping his hands together to harness the precious energy he had been collecting from the humans. It gathered between his palms as a dark sphere, jagged bolts of black energy emanating from the core. Without delay, he fired it towards the dragon and watched, incredulous as the dragon opened and closed his mouth, the sphere disappearing inside.

Even before his mouth was all the way closed, the dragon was countering, whipping his tail around, striking at the heart of where the leeching vines joined with Akumakai's trunk, trying to sever the Arch Daemon's energy supply. But Akumakai had already discerned his intent, and he fired a volley of short energy bursts that served as a shield, buffeting the lethal tail's power so that it became nothing more than a glancing blow.

Unperturbed, the Eternal Dragon swung about. Stretching out his neck, he let his wings carry him high above the city and Akumakai's twisted torso. Then he turned and looked back down. Tucking in his wings, he dove straight down at his target. The wind screamed past him, whipping the flames of his body back, creating a fiery blue trail through the sky. His red gold eyes narrowed as he drew closer and closer, waiting for the right moment to launch the darkened Soul energy he'd caught within his jaws.

Craning his neck, Akumakai followed the progress of the blue-green flame plummeting towards him and his lips curled.

"He thinks to ram us? Let him come! We will pull him in as the sea pulls the sand." He hissed scornfully.

Akumakai rerouted a good many of his vines from the ground and the buildings, making them rear like giant snakes around his body. They twined together and formed a writhing wall, more solid than even his energy barrier had been. He laughed softly as the dragon approached, anticipating the collision, thinking to catch the dragon and siphon its flaming energy.

But the dragon did not strike him. Instead, right before the moment of impact, the Eternal Dragon's wings' unfurled, cutting short his descent. Before Akumakai clearly understood what was happening, a bright light began to gleam just outside his vine barrier. Searching, his eyes quickly discovered its source and widened in alarm when he saw the dark soul sphere, _ his sphere_, within the Eternal Dragon's mouth.

The souls were being released, the blackness evanescing as light overcame dark and a new sphere of dazzling incandescence coalesced in front of the dragon's head. Its brilliance was buoyant and pulsating, small flashes glittering within it as it continued to grow, expanding until it was three times larger than Akumakai's sphere of corruption, which had now completely dissipated.

Satisfied, the Eternal Dragon closed his mouth, his red-gold eyes gleaming triumphantly as he gave his wings one hard pump for extra lift. Whipping his tail around, he hit the sphere and it went smashing into the writing wall, pulverizing it on contact. Akumakai's body twitched in pain, a nasty gurgling sound rising in the air. As the vines disintegrated, the suffering souls flowing through their marrow was lifted and absorbed into the center of the brightly glowing globe where they were purified, and added to it mass. In just a span of a few short milliseconds, the sphere had again grown, becoming larger than even the Eternal Dragon. However, its size didn't slow its velocity. If anything, it moved faster and seemingly with a will of its own. It headed straight for Akumakai, swerving with unbelievable agility as the Arch Daemon swiped at it with his four arms, hurtling without pause until it hit him square in the chest.

Akumakai's head was snapped back at the force of the blow and he roared in pain, scrabbling to push away the light, but it was no use. It began eating away at his flesh upon impact, pulling away the lost and damned souls he'd used to construct his body. The buildings shuddered at the sound of his pain as his flesh was consumed, disappearing beneath the expanding brightness of intensely swirling light. Soon all visible signs of him were gone, swallowed by the sphere. All that remained of his existence was his loud, screeching cry; but that too, soon faded, dimming until the chiming hum of the sphere was the only sound reverberating through the air.

The Eternal Dragon beat his wings, rising into the air to hover above the light, his red-gold eyes solemnly studying it. Then he lifted his head and a forlorn keening filled the heavens as he gave vent to his sorrow. He returned his gaze back to the sphere with the sad sound echoing around him and was surprised by a soft touch against the slope of his long neck.

It was the Kushinada.

With the naginata still in hand, she too was gazing down at the orb of light which remained motionless despite the whorls of energetic light swirling and sparkling inside it.

"You sense her, don't you?" the Kushinada whispered softly, lifting her dark eyes to the flame visage of the Eternal Dragon.

In response, his red-gold eyes flickered back to the light, a murmur of sound similar to a whimper escaping his throat. The Kushinada let her hand rest comfortingly against him for a moment longer and then with a pat, she moved away, letting her iridescent wings carry her to where the orb hovered. Gracefully, she lit upon the ruptured ground below it where Akumakai's body had once been, gazing up as she slowly drifted to stand beneath it.

The resonant hum coming from it vibrated her very bones, almost covering the faint cry of inquiry from the Eternal Dragon. Resting the staff of the naginata against the ragged earth, she searched the vortex of energy, her eyes looking for visible traces of what the Dragon had felt.

"You hear him too, don't you, little one?" she said as she gazed upwards, "Your father cries for you. Won't you come to me so that I might help him?"

She raised her arm upwards in a gesture of supplication and waited hopefully. She was rewarded as her eyes caught sight of a small flicker of blue.

"That's it," she said encouragingly with a beckoning gesture.

The Eternal Dragon again called to the Kushinada, his wings carrying him in a restless circle above the energy sphere as he gazed down. Finally, he saw her white-clad figure calmly emerge from beneath the light. Then she turned and with one hand lifted her naginata, pointing the curved blade in the sphere's direction. The dragon's circling stopped as he watched a bolt of blue lightning emerge from its tip and tap into the sphere, slowly absorbing it, shrinking it until, at last, nothing remained but the view of the Kushinada standing amid the cracked asphalt and jagged chunks of earth.

The naginata glowed brightly now, little orbs of light bobbing around it, overflowing from the blade, but the Kushinada didn't seem to notice as she stretched out her iridescent wings and again took flight, moving purposefully towards the blue-green flame in the sky. As she reached him, she motioned for him to follow her with her naginata and together they made their way back to the top of the Metropolitan Government Office Building where Momiji's body still lay.

As soon as her feet touched down, she turned and watched the dragon alight next to her, holding out her free hand to him which, until now had been carefully balled into a fist. Turning her palm upwards, she slowly opened her fingers to reveal a small blue flame flickering faintly and uncertainly.

The dragon's head bobbed intently forward to within inches of her hand and he opened his mouth, the same, soft mewling sound emerging as his red-gold eyes alternated from watching the little flame to gazing into the eyes of the Kushinada.

"For you," she offered, further stretching her hand in his direction, "your daughter." Her eyes were kind as she added liltingly, "I sense she has much of her mother's gentleness about her as well as her strong will." As she spoke, she turned her hand, tipping it towards the Eternal Dragon and the little flame exploded with a flash of brightness and then disappeared.

Alarmed, the Eternal Dragon quickly looked around for a sign of it, until he felt a warm glow rush through his veins, moving towards the center of his body.

"Guard her well within your heart, Keeper of the Sky, until it is time for her to reawaken."

With her now empty hand, she once again smoothed her palm along his neck and he gratefully bowed his head towards her, an intimate moment stretching between them before she leaned away from him, moving towards Momiji's still figure.

"Guardian of the Earth," she said over her shoulder, addressing the other nature of the Eternal Dragon as she came to a stop and leaned upon the naginata's staff for balance while she kneeled beside Momiji. "Your worry for the one you love is unfounded. She has been with me the entire time, guiding me, sharing with me the warm emotions she has for you." Her eyes gazed steadily at the Dragon for a moment longer before she turned and looked at Momiji's pale and flaccid countenance.

"She is unlike many of those who have come before her – she is truly a princess…" as her words trailed away, her face registered expression for the first time. Eyes softening, her lips curved into a gentle, approving smile. "Well done, Momiji Kushinada," she cried softly, letting her fingers rest lightly upon Momiji's lips. "Because of you, the Souls of the Blade have at last found peace. We are now free to rest, along with those that have suffered the torment of Akumakai."

As she finished speaking, a high-pitched humming filled the air, and the naginata and the Kushinada began to emanate an incredibly bright aura. Their task complete, the souls that comprised them began to disperse, little orbs spinning off and floating away, some softly bathing Momiji with their light, while others dissipated in the distance. The Eternal Dragon too began to blur, becoming a mass of swirling energy that struggled to separate and reshape itself.

As the last vestiges of the image of the Kushinada faded away, the two inert forms of Kusanagi and Murakumo solidified in the place the Eternal Dragon had last stood and for a moment, nothing moved.

But then, the wind picked up, and Momiji began to stir, suddenly conscious of the feel of it against her skin.

"Well done, Momiji, Kushinada!"

Slowly she opened her eyes, and seeing a fuzzy face hovering above her own, she struggled to bring it into focus.

"Susano-oh?" she mumbled querulously, blearily noting the serene smile on the face. But no, she thought. As her vision sharpened, the godlike image faded. "Mr. Futeki," she croaked thickly. _Funny how the eyes could play tricks on you_. Mr. Futeki looked _nothing _liked Susano-oh…

"Amazing – you actually survived all that," he responded.

His voice sounded hollow and far away in her ears at first, but became more real and solid as he continued.

"I have to tell you that you've gone and spoiled the rest of my life with your kick-ass heroics, missy," he grumbled. "Nothing's ever gonna measure up to what I just witnessed. Sorta' makes a man want to cry," he remarked, although he sounded far too grumpy to actually shed any tears.

Momiji stared owlishly at the biker, her brain slow to react to his gruff banter.

"Did we - ? get them all?..." she asked in a numb and disjointed way as Mr. Futeki helped her to sit up.

"I think so,' Mr. Futeki said. "Those wandering the streets sorta' just melted after you, er, nuked the big one."

While she listened, Momiji put her hands to her temples as she tried to wade through his words, groping for what it all meant. Slowly she turned her head, still feeling fuzzy.

"Kusanagi," she murmured, her eyes focusing on her husband. Grimly, she struggled to rise to her feet, and almost fell flat on her face from weakness.

"Whoa, missy," Mr. Futeki warned, grabbing hold of her by both arms. "Let me help you."

Carefully he hoisted her up on unsteady legs and put his arm around her waist. Together they staggered slowly towards Kusanagi and Murakumo who was just beginning to stir. As Momiji sank to her knees between them, Murakumo opened his grey eyes and sat up, exhibiting strength that Momiji would have thought impossible, given the battle that he'd just fought. Momiji noted that his hand went to his chest and he lightly rubbed it, as if he felt a lingering warmth, and she smiled faintly.

With dawning realization, Murakumo's eyes slid to Momiji's pallid cheeks. He felt sure it had been Momiji, acting through the Kushinada, who had held his unborn daughter in her hands. She was the one who had decided to go after her. She was also the one who had recognized Midori's traits; something that the Souls of the Blade alone could never have done. It was because of Momiji, he reasoned with humbling clarity, that his daughter had been saved. Gratitude welled up inside him and he didn't know what to do with it. He opened his mouth, but for once, he could find no aristocratic words to fall back on.

Fortunately, he was saved the effort by Kusanagi who had finally regained his senses.

"Momiji," he breathed in a breaking voice as soon as his eyelids lifted and he saw her.

Momiji's attention was immediately diverted to her husband as he sat up and reached for his wife, crushing her in his arms, his body shaking with emotion.

"You did it," he declared, his eyes squeezed shut, awe and relief mingling in his voice. "My god, - I can't believe it's actually over!" His voice was shaking almost as much as his body.

"It _is_ over," Momiji agreed tearfully, muffled, her face pressed against his bare chest, holding onto him as if she never wanted to let go. "We won!"

From a distance, Mr. Kunikida's echoing voice could be heard addressing them through a bullhorn, but it seemed that at the moment, no one on top of the roof was paying heed.

Certainly not Momiji and Kusanagi. They were in their own little world, Murakumo discerned. He watched the reunited couple taking refuge in each other's embrace. The biker, too, was busy hovering uncomfortably in the background, possibly wishing that he was in his own little world, one that perhaps didn't include the government, flying Aragami, and a mushy human couple. And he – here Murakumo's thoughts hesitated, as a restless energy gripped him. Well he had somewhere else he wanted to be as well.

Withone last glace at Kusanagi, Momiji and the biker, he stepped towards the ledge of the building. Then without a word of farewell, he pushed off to surge through the air, his mind focused on one thing:

Midori.

That's where he wanted to be; with her and his son.

He would have to wait until the Self-Defense Force brought Noa back to him, but he could still see Midori. Glancing at the morning sun that was midway to its highest point in the sky, he wondered if Midori had regained consciousness yet. He put his hand to his chest, touching the mitamas that harbored their unborn daughter.

It was important that she know about Momiji's gift, he thought suddenly – but only that he'd been given charge of her spirit. Since she could never bear another child, he would keep the Kushinada's words about the child's reawakening locked away. For as much as he wished for the innocence flowing through his veins to see the sun through her own eyes, he would not abandon Midori for another to accomplish that. Perhaps it was selfishness on his part that contributed to his decision, but, he reasoned vehemently, it was _ their child: _his andMidori's; and unborn or not, he would have it remain that way.

Having arrived at that decision, he had every confidence that despite the horror of what had happened to her, in time Midori would be able to find peace in knowing that the baby was alive within him; and as for him – as long as Midori was by his side, he could find peace in that decision as well.

Finally arriving at the TAC building, Murakumo made his way inside, listening with half an ear to excited conversations about disintegrating Tengugaki and as he strode past, he ignored the frantic TAC officers and Self-Defense Force member who asked him to confirm the speculation that disappearing Tengugaki were a result of Akumakai's defeat. Several went even so far as to put themselves directly in his path, but he just glared coldly at them without pause, moving impatiently around them, too intent on reaching Midori.

Where had all these infernal humans come from? he thought irritably as he gained the fourth floor. They certainly hadn't been here earlier before he'd left. But now they were everywhere!

They were even rushing back and forth in the hallway outside Midori's door, waving papers at each other, talking on transceiver radios and generating an incredible amount of noise to which Murakumo found himself reacting by fighting the desire to fire a paralyzing energy bolt just to shut them up; especially after he entered Midori's room and spied her lying on her side watching the turmoil, her face pale and apprehensive. When she saw him, the expression on her face didn't change much, but the hand resting on the pillow next to her face, clutched the white fabric convulsively.

"Oh, thank goodness! You're all right!" she breathed in thready relief as she weakly struggled to sit up while he quietly closed the door behind him. "I-is it over? Are Momiji and Kusanagi and the rest of the TAC all right?" she asked anxiously, "Everyone outside in the hall seems to think that we've beaten them, but no one knew for certain…" her words trailed off as a wave of dizziness caused by her sudden movements engulfed her, and her wobbly arms gave out.

She slid into a slump against the mattress but didn't remain there long. A gentle pair of hands clasped her around the shoulders and lifted her until she was sitting propped up against a stack of pillows, the blanket securely tucked around her waist. While he tucked the blanket around her, she apprehensively her eyed him. His clothes were tattered, bloody and filthy, his face scratched and grimy as well, and he looked exhausted. But his voice, when he finally spoke was soft and even and reassuring.

"The enemy has been defeated and everyone is safe," he confirmed and watched as her face relaxed in relief.

"Thank goodness," she breathed, clasping her hands together against the white, nondescript hospital gown draped across her breasts, "I was so afraid that after Tamanasu –" the heaviness that had been centered in her chest since she'd woken up rose and choked off her words. She struggled to overcome it, unconsciously clenching her fingers tightly together, making her knuckles turn white. "I was afraid he couldn't be stopped after what happened…" Trailing off, her fingers crept towards her face, wanting to hide the fact that her thin composure was about to crumble.

Murakumo leaned forward in the chair that he'd taken next to the bed and grabbed her hands, his fingers strong and warm. "The Kushinada returned to me what Tamanasu took form you, Midori, and now he is dead. Our child is forever safe from him," he informed her, squeezing her fingers.

Midori gave him a wide-eyed look.

"W-what? I don't understand -" she said tremulously, and listened overwhelmed as Murakumo relayed to her what had happened during the final battle with Tamanasu and Akumakai.

"She will always be with us; you Noa and I," Murakumo said gently, a soft light in his grey eyes as he smoothed back the characteristic errant strands of hair that trembled against Midori's cheek.

Their baby had been spared! Midori closed her eyes on the grateful tears she could feel gathering and swallowed hard.

"Thank you," she whispered, "thank you for telling me –" her words petered as Murakumo's lips moved lightly against hers.

"And now," he murmured after a few moments, "I would like to hear what it is you have to say to me."

The atmosphere around them was suddenly charged with tension.

What she had to say to him!?

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Midori said warily, nervously pleating the folds of the blankets with her fingers.

Murakumo's eyes narrowed, a hint of accusation in his tone as he said, "The message you left with the Kushinada – it's unacceptable!" He was practically glaring at her now, and Midori felt her insides begin to congeal until he leaned forward and grasped her chin, his grey eyes searching as he added softly, "if you wish to say something, then say it directly to me!"

So compelling was his gaze that she couldn't look away, and with a jolt of surprise, she heard herself blurt out, "I love you… but I was afraid to tell you because I was so happy that you'd said you wanted to stay with me… and… I thought… that if you knew… because I know you think that feelings are for the weak – that you might leave –" Her words dwindled away. He'd increased the pressure of his hold on her chin and she suddenly realized that she'd been foolish to think that way.

"There is only one place I wish to be, and that is wherever you are, Midori Fujisawa. You are my peace." He stared at her for a long moment. It seemed almost if he could hear the furious pounding of her heart and he was giving her a moment to try and calm its painfully euphoric tattoo.

With chilled fingers, she tentatively touched the warm ones still clasping her chin, her dark eyes brightening with an elation that remained undimmed even as a faint slash of color stained Murakumo's cheekbones beneath their layer dirt and he pulled his fingers free. Awkwardly he rose to his feet and turned his back to her to gaze out the window. Before today, she might have interpreted his actions as a withdrawal from her, but now she understood: it was a sign of his vulnerability –_to her -_ and oddly enough, she found his actions comforting.

Drawing back the curtain in a pose of interest, Murakumo cleared his throat and without turning to look at her said softly, "Your heart… the depths you go to in which to give … it's overwhelming, Midori."

His head swiveled partially so that she could see his profile and he inclined his head in a slight bow. His voice when it again came, was quieter than before, but even so, he made certain that she could hear what he said.

"I… _feel…_ honored and humbled - and I will make sure you'll never regret giving your heart to me."

A tender smile appeared at the corners of her mouth as she watched him turn stiffly back towards the window.

"- As long as you are with me, I will never have regrets," she responded softly.

With a curt nod of his head, he acknowledged her words and for several moments longer, he stayed stationed by the window, too awkward to move, and uncertain as to what to do. His problem was inadvertently solved just a few seconds later when the door swung open and three people came traipsing through it in a flurry of motion. Murakumo's expression darkened when he recognized one of them as being Midori's selfish brother. Moving instinctively, he left the window and stepped towards Midori's bed, his hand coming up to rest possessively against the wooden headboard behind Midori's shoulders as he glowered at the young man.

"Y-yuji! Mom, Dad!" Midori greeted in weak surprise. Her eyes swung to Murakumo when she saw her brother check his speed and actually take a step backwards. "Stop scaring him!" she muttered under her breath, relaxing only when Murakumo struggled to comply, his menacing glare simmering down to just an autocratic stare.

The look of terror on Yuji's face abated somewhat and he tentatively followed in the wake of their parents, who had been undaunted by Murakumo's presence.

Of course they'd never been threatened with mutilation by Midori's lover the way he had, Yuji thought miserably as he did his best to hide from the tall brute's eyes behind the backs of his parents, content to listen to the barrage of concerned inquiries his mother was throwing at his sister.

Midori spent a few labored moments assuring them that she would be fine, and telling them about the TAC's victory over the Tengugaki, all the while very aware of their pointed and unspoken curiosity towards the tall figure standing regally by her side.

"-But how did you get here!?: she stammered when she'd finally finished her explanation, trying to forestall any awkward questions. "Travel has been extremely dangerous! You should have stayed somewhere safe!"

"You're our _daughter,_" her mother replied strongly, her eyes warm and loving as they rested upon Midori's wan face. "We would risk everything where you and Yuji are concerned to make sure you're safe," she looked at her husband for support and he nodded emphatically in agreement with her words. "Not that there was a great deal of risk involved for use, dear. Mr. Kunikida arranged for our air transport as soon as we'd been informed of your injuries. So, we had a military escort. They seemed quite capable of handling any danger that might have arisen, but perhaps," her mother amended, her eyes leaving her daughter to focus just to the left of her, "not as capable as this gentleman appears to be."

There was a pause, which Midori found extremely uncomfortable, even though her mother seemed completely at ease.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you among the ranks of Midori's TAC friends, young man," she observed, addressing Murakumo directly.

Murakumo's brows soared at being called young but his voice was even as he said, "That's because I'm not among the ranks of the TAC," and then after a quick glance down at Midori, he added, "not officially anyway."

"M-m-mother, this is Murakumo – he and Kusanagi along with Momiji were the keys to our victory over the Tengugaki." Midori stammered in introduction, shooting her brother a questioning look.

She'd assumed that Yuji would have told her parents about Murakumo, but realized he'd kept her secret when returned her gaze with a helpless shrug. Had he kept it out of respect for her privacy? she wondered ruefully, or because he was afraid that Murakumo might rip out his spleen if he said anything?

Finally cognizant of her daughter's unease, Midori's mother gave Murakumo a measuring glance.

"So, young man," she brusquely addressed him, "why are you here with my daughter? What is your relationship with her?"

Midori cringed at her mother's cutting directness. So much for avoiding awkward questions! she thought in consternation.

"I am here to protect her," Murakumo responded loftily, his eyes flickering dismissively over Yuji before moving back to the matronly figure standing in front of him. "-The same way she has protected me."

"Protected you?" Mrs. Fujisawa gave him an odd look.

"Mother-" Midori began in a strained voice, fearful that Murakumo's explanation of their relationship could only frighten and alarm her parents.

"Yes," Murakumo nodded, ignoring Midori's abortive attempts to take hold of the conversation. "That is what mates do. They protect each other."

"Mates?" Ms. Fujisawa's eyes widened; behind her Yuji groaned miserably. "Hush," she murmured over her shoulder to her son before sharply redirecting her attention to Midori. "So you two are 'mates', Midori?" she demanded.

All eyes turned towards Midori, but the only pair she was truly conscious of were the grey ones trained steadily on her, waiting for her response.

"Yes."

Her voice was firm and definite and Yuji groaned, this time louder than before. He stifled it though when his mother rounded on him and fixed him with a critical eye.

"You see!?" she said in exasperation, throwing up her hands, "your baby sister has found someone – so why – can't – you!?"

Immediately a loud squabble broke out between mother and son. Midori's father rolled his eyes, heaved a long-suffering sigh and kept his silence – as he always did. Normally he steered clear of the squabbles that arose when his wife felt the need to meddle in Yuji's life and air her opinion at what he should and shouldn't be doing. Mr. Fujisawa had found it worked best if he refrained from interfering and let her get it all out of her system – otherwise, it just increased the amount of time his erstwhile son ended up suffering since she would only continue her lecture if interrupted prematurely. However, in this instance, he changed his mind after one look at the happiness shining brightly upon his daughter's face.

Murakumo had just slipped his hand around Midori's and she was staring up at him. Both seemed oblivious to the noise that Yuji and his wife were making, but even so, he felt that they had overstayed their welcome. So, as unobtrusively as he could, he reached out and began shepherding his wife and son from the room. Not surprising to him, they were so engrossed in their heated contention that they weren't even aware that they were being moved. It was only as he clicked the door closed behind them and his wife paused for a breath that she finally realized that they were standing out in the hallway.

"I just thought those two deserved a little peace before we started airing our family… _differences…_" he mumbled vaguely at his wife's inquiring look.

"Quite right," she agreed with a decisive nod after a moment's thought. "She seems happy with him and we certainly don't want to scare her young man away."

A hysterical crack of laughter from Yuji interrupted her and he exclaimed a little wildly, "Scare him away!? Scare _him_ away!? He's too terrifying to be scared away by anything we could possibly say or do – I can't believe you actually approve of their relationship!"

"Of course I do," Mrs. Fujisawa retorted reproachfully, "your sister has found someone strong to watch over her. I know I don't have to worry about her happiness anymore – _You_ on the other hand – "

"Oh, here we go again!" Yuji muttered irritably under his breath before exclaiming crossly, "this is not about me; this is about Midori and her Yakuza boyfriend!"

With another long sigh, Mr. Fujisawa glanced regretfully at Midori's door. He would've liked to have spent a few more minutes with her, but he supposed it was for the best.

With the same quiet adeptness as before, Mr. Fujisawa herded the remainder of his still quibbling family past the nurses' station, a small smile affixed upon his face as his thoughts centered on the two remaining occupants of the hospital room. Midori had found happiness; the kind of happiness that lasted a lifetime, and as a father, his daughter's happiness was all that really mattered.

Fin


	47. Epilogue

Epilogue

"How are you, Momiji?" Kusanagi asked from behind where she trudged downhill through the soft grass next to Midori.

Three-year-old Noa toddled between them, one hand tucked protectively in each woman's hand.

"Kusanagi," Despite her efforts to keep her patience, a slight edge of asperity crept into her voice. "-- How long has it been since you last asked me that?"

"Three minutes," Murakumo responded precisely before Kusanagi could. Unlike Momiji, he didn't bother trying to quell hide his irritation with Kusanagi. In fact he was so disgusted, that he shot a fulminating glance at the green-haired man keeping pace with him as they followed the leisurely pace of Momiji and Midori. "—Not to mention that it was only three minutes from the time before that; oh and then there was the four and a half minutes before that; and somehow he managed a _miraculous_ six minutes before that!"

"Shut up!" Kusanagi snarled, directing a dark look at Murakumo before letting his cat-like eyes slide back to the lumbering figure of his wife, now almost at full term in her pregnancy with their first child. "I still don't understand why we had to come all the way out here _now._" He grumbled sullenly.

"Because," Momiji responded crisply, turning her head and giving her husband a warning look. "the view from Mount Takao is beautiful this time of year and this is the last time we will be able to come like this before the baby is born."

She let her green gaze linger a moment longer than necessary on her husband, making sure he got the point as he subsided into a discontented silence.

"We're here!" Midori said softly as they came to the edge of the trees.

She motioned to the gently sloping expanse of green grass falling away to a breathtaking view of Tokyo in the distance. Momiji turned her head and drew in an appreciative breath at the crystal clear blue sky and the sunlight sparkling on the city's spires.

"What a deceptive view. It actually looks _clean_," Murakumo muttered darkly, not surprised when no one said anything.

After a moment, Momiji murmured, "Kusanagi?" and sent him a speaking glance.

"Right," he muttered, and with a curt jerk of his head directed at Murakumo, the two put down the supplies they'd brought with them.

Making quick work of it, they spread out a blanket that had been tucked in one of their knapsacks beneath the shade of the trees, a basket of food and a small cooler they had also carried arranged conveniently at its corner. Momiji and Midori wandered several yards away, drifting slowly along, keeping a watchful eye on Noa as he clambered through the tall grass. The two women bent their heads close together, their conversation pitched low as they watched the little boy's dark head bobbing up and down as he crouched down to watch the sleek and nimble green insect that had captured his attention flit to and fro. After a few moments of just observing, he tried a few joyful leaps of his own.

Great gusts of childish laughter echoed across the hill and he cried, "Papa! Papa! Come see! Lookie, lookie!" Murakumo paused in his job and looked over at his son to see him pointing at the grass that came all the way up to the little boys knees. "Hop! Hop!" he exclaimed brightly, popping up and down with each word, his eyes swinging towards Midori for guidance. "Mama?" he asked querulously, his outstretched finger wiggling a little to emphasize what he wanted to know.

"It's a grasshopper," she told him with a tender smile.

Noa nodded enthusiastically. "Uh-huh, uh huh! Hop, hop!" he agreed in delight, pogo-ing up and down in a circle.

Momiji watched the little exchange between Midori and Noa while rubbing her tummy, an indulgent smile playing at the corners of her mouth until out of the corner of her eye she spied Murakumo leave the shade of the trees and stroll in their direction.

She knew that Midori had seen him too because she'd immediately begun to fidget.

"Here he comes," Midori breathed anxiously.

Trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, she turned and feigned interest in the spread out view.

Momiji came up from behind and briefly rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be scared," Momiji comforted, "you know this is going to make him very happy."

Midori's chin tilted towards her chest and she took a deep breath. "I know. Deep inside, I do know that," she replied shakily, "it's just sometimes I worry because whenever I've tried to broach the subject of another baby, he never wants to talk about it. – He adamantly insists that things are perfect just the way they are…"

"That's only because he knows what the doctors said – about the chance of you being able to conceive – but the doctors didn't take into account the healing powers of Susano-oh," Momiji replied bracingly. "Your dreams weren't wrong," she earnestly insisted, referring to the frequently recurring dreams that Midori had experienced over the past three years in which she was surrounded by a white light, and in the distance, she could hear a soft voice whispering comfortingly to her.

When she'd told Momiji about her dreams, Momiji had declared immediately that it was Susano-oh. Momiji had wanted to know what the voice had said, but Midori could never remember the words; only the feelings of reassurance she was left with.

"He's healing you," Momiji had responded with absolute certainty. "I had dreams just like yours right after I was injured," she'd told her. "You wait and see. He'll prove all the doctors wrong. I have no doubt about it!"

Back then, just a few months after the Tengugaki had been defeated, Midori hadn't echoed the same confidence as Momiji. Although she had harbored a secret hope that her friend was right, a hope that sometimes burned so strong that she had tried to talk to Murakumo about the possibility of trying to conceive another child – which is why she was so nervous now.

Working to gather her courage, she vaguely heard Momiji talking to Murakumo and Noa as the young boy babbled excitedly about the fuzzy worm he'd just found.

"Well, it was a long walk here, and I'm a little pooped out," Momiji sighed in the way of an excuse. Her gaze flitted from Murakumo's preoccupied profile to Midori's taught one. "So if you two don't mind, I think I'll ask Noa to walk me back to the blanket where I can sit and be lazy for a while."

With a bright smile, she took the little boy's free hand and walked away, but not without several furtive looks thrown back over her shoulder as she waddled towards where Kusanagi was waiting.

"Nagi, Nagi!" Noa cried, breaking away from Momiji's grasp and galloping full steam towards Kusanagi. "I found a Kitty Pillow!"

Kusanagi gazed blankly at Noa until he saw the fuzzy caterpillar stretched out along Noa's chubby index finger.

"You sure did!" Kusanagi grinned. "I bet he'd really like it if you took him right over there," he pointed to the small sapling just a few paces away. "and if you put him on one of the branches, you can watch him eat!"

Noa's little mouth puckered into an amazed 'oooh' and he immediately scooted towards the small tree where he carefully placed the fuzzy crawler and watched, absorbed as it explored its new surrounding before settling down to munch contentedly on the leaf Noa held steadily in front of it.

After making sure he wasn't going to move from that one spot for a while, Momiji carefully lowered herself onto the blanket, speculatively eyeing the dark-headed couple standing next to each other, their faced turned towards the view.

Momiji heard Kusanagi mumble, "I don't think I've every seen a denser couple…" and she turned, craning her neck to look up at him and give him a reproachful look. He returned her gaze with a shrug, not an ounce of remorse in his expression and she just shook her head as he dropped down on the blanket behind her, stretching his long legs out on either side of her so he could pull her back to lean comfortably against his chest.

"Do you think she's told him yet about the baby yet?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Hmmm," Kusanagi cogitated, letting his chin rest lightly on his wife's shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her. He let his hands rest lightly against her stomach, a slight smile tipping the corners of his mouth when he felt their baby move. "Judging by the way Murakumo's just standing there with his hands in his pockets, my guess would be: no. – But you'd think he'd get a clue," he added dryly.

Momiji's brow wrinkled at that and she sat for a few long minutes trying to decipher exactly what it meant. Unsuccessful, she tipped her head to the right, looking at Kusanagi from the corner of her eye.

"What clue is he supposed to get?" she asked his profile.

Intrigued by how his arms suddenly tensed, she turned her head a little more to look him fully in the face, as he dropped his arms behind him and leaned back in a negligent pose, struggling to maintain a bland expression. He couldn't manage it right away though, and Momiji's sharp eyes quickly noted that his lips had pulled into a tense line: a definite signal that something had happened between Murakumo and himself which he'd much rather not talk about.

Ever since that day when they had become "brothers", their souls entwined within the Eternal Dragon, there had been a bond that had been forged between them – although neither man would admit it. And on the surface, none of the hostility they had for each other had abated in the slightest.

But deep inside, Momiji thought, they had a developed new respect for each other, and even a certain protectiveness that siblings possess despite their constant bickering. She'd made the mistake of actually voicing her opinion regarding this and had nearly had her ear chewed off for her efforts as Kusanagi spent a good twenty minutes vehemently denying it, ending his diatribe by saying, "I NEVER want to get that close to that arrogant bastard ever again!"

Having no desire to relive that lecture, Momiji now kept silent as to why Kusanagi became so sour when he'd held a conversation with Murakumo that did not center on snide remarks and their boyish efforts of trying to out-boast each other.

Now she waited patiently for him to explain and after a few minutes was rewarded when Kusanagi regained enough of his equanimity to reply in an even voice, "Murakumo has been brooding for a while now – more than his normal amount. At first I thought it was because…" he grimaced and trailed off, wishing he'd thought a little more before speaking since he'd just said much more than he'd meant to. He didn't expect that to get by Momiji either and wasn't surprised when as if on cue, she prodded him.

"You thought it was because of what?" she inquired, turning to gaze absently at the two people they were talking about.

"Never mind – that doesn't have anything to do with what we're talking about," he hedged, and then a slight teasing note crept into his voice. "And besides, you ladies aren't the only ones with secrets."

Momiji's discontented grumbling at his remark made him chuckle softly but to keep her from lodging a complaint he tried to sidetrack her with his other explanation.

"Murakumo has been brooding about the absence of his daughter. He hasn't been able to feel her energy for quite some time – my guess is she went missing at around the same time that Midori conceived. I just think that the arrogant blockhead would have made the connection, had he stopped to think about it at all."

"Well, the doctors _did_ say that she wouldn't be able to have children," Momiji pointed out.

"Yeah, but since when has Murakumo really listened to anything any human has to say?" Kusanagi asked derisively.

"He listens to Midori – "

"Of course he does – but that's different," Kusanagi exclaimed impatiently.

"Why is it different?" Momiji mused, slowly sitting up straighter and rubbing at a sudden, mild contraction.

"Because he loves her!" he exclaimed unable to stop himself from gesticulating irritably towards the other couple.

Momiji ignored his crankiness, her smile beaming as their gazes met. "Do you really think so?"

Kusanagi rolled his eyes. "Of course! Why else would he – "

Damn! He was such an idiot! he thought in exacerbation.

"-But never mind about that," he harrumphed dismissively, his brows falling into a heavy frown over his eyes.

"No, no," Momiji protested, shifting on the blanket so that she was half turned in his direction. "There's no 'never mind' now. That's twice you've started to say something, and twice you've refused to tell me. I want to know what it is you're hiding," she demanded firmly, her green eyes pinned to him.

"Nothing," he replied with a shrug, his answer coming just a shade too quickly.

Momiji just gave him a long look. With a soft sigh, she turned back around, her eyes drifting back to Murakumo and Midori who still stood poised on the hillside. At least now, she thought with a small slice of satisfaction, they were finally facing each other, albeit awkwardly.

"No fair, Kusanagi," she murmured over her shoulder to her husband, "I told you my 'secret'," she nodded towards Midori. "You know I don't keep things from you, no matter what they are –" she trailed off waiting for him to relent like she knew he would. If she really wanted to know, he would usually tell her.

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her, he thought in consternation. But after Murakumo had shocked him by coming to him seeking council and Kusanagi had stiffly given it, the dark and arrogant Aragami had again reverted to his familiar, lofty air and with a cold stare, had proclaimed, "I trust you will keep this conversation just between you and me."

Kusanagi had shrug negligently and replied, "I don't see what you're so worried about. Who am I gonna tell?"

The knowing look on Murakumo's face had been insulting when he'd replied snidely, "Your wife."

Kusanagi had scowled then, and was goaded into saying, "You can relax, your Immenseness. I won't say anything to Momiji."

And up until today, the memory of that conversation had kept "his secret" from being divulged. Somehow, now, though, it felt wrong to have kept it from her. She was right. She kept nothing from him. Why should he let the attitude from someone whose opinion he'd never given a damn about anyway keep him from telling her?

With a resigned sigh, he began, "It's been, I don't know, maybe six weeks – right before Murakumo began worrying about not being able to sense his daughter anymore - but out of the blue he told me that he was concerned with how things were between he and Midori."

Momiji gave her husband a startled look, her eyes flying to the man they were talking about. "He did?"

"Yep," Kusanagi replied shortly, adding ruefully "I know. At the time, I couldn't believe it either. But it's true. He did.

"He was concerned about how she recently seemed troubled – almost fearful in a way…" Kusanagi paused trying to remember exactly how he'd put it. "As if she was afraid she'd drive him away with a word or an action. It bothered him, because he thought they had settled that issue long ago. He wanted to know what humans do in a situation like that."

"And what did you tell him," Momiji asked curiously.

"To be perfectly honest, I didn't know what to tell him, Momiji," Kusanagi replied with chagrin. His face assumed an introspective look as he narrowed his eyes against the bright sunshine and looked towards the horizon, his eyes flickering thoughtfully over Midori and Murakumo at the same time.

"I know you've treated her well, that she seems happy when I see her," he remembered telling Murakumo. "But maybe she needs to know that the love she gives you is important. It's hardly likely that you'll ever confess your feelings to her," he'd remarked realistically, a little surprised at the sharp look he'd received for it, "but perhaps you can at least show her that you're committed to her..."

"I told him that if he wanted to show his commitment to her, he should ask her to marry him," Kusanagi said aloud. "If insecurity was the issue, then perhaps that would solve it. And if that didn't work, then the only thing left would be to tell her that he loved her -- if he had the guts for it, that is."

"No!" Momiji gasped incredulously. "You didn't say that?! -- Did you really say that?!"

Bringing his gaze back to her, he grinned roguishly.

"Yep. Really and truly."

"So that was your big secret?" Momiji bubbled with excitement. "He's going to ask her to marry him?"

"Yep. That was it."

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!" she gasped putting her hands to her mouth. "What an eventful day this is going to be! Maybe she will even get a confession of love from him too!"

"Well I wouldn't hold my breath for that one, Princess," Kusanagi warned lazily, his demeanor rapidly changing as he heard his wife gasp again her hands dropping away from her face to rest upon her stomach. "Momiji?" he asked, sitting up and leaning towards her in concern.

"Baby! Baby!" Noa's small voice piped as he ran towards them, the mitamas in his hands glowing brightly. "She's ready to say hello!" he cried excitedly, putting his miniature hand with its glowing bead upon Momiji's stomach. "I like her, Miji," the toddler grinned in happiness, "she seems nice, like you!"

"Good god, I knew it," Kusanagi muttered full of dread. "I _ knew_ coming up here was a bad idea! You've gone into labor haven't you?"

His voice was so accusing that Momiji laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" he demanded peevishly, waving his hand around "we are nowhere near a hospital!"

"Calm down, Kusanagi," Momiji replied. The laughter was gone, but there was muted amusement in her voice. "We have plenty of time to get to the hospital. The pains just started –"

"We're leaving now," he cut in ill temperedly, turning his head, he shouted, "Midori, Murakumo!" and then scowled when the couple ignored him, caught up in an embrace.

'I think they've come to some sort of agreement," Momiji noted with soft glee.

Kusanagi ground his teeth in frustration as he bent and picked up his wife, ignoring her protest that she could walk. "Well that's just too bad!" he growled marching in their direction, Noa coming up to trail alongside when Kusanagi called his name.

"Kusanagi, I think you're over-reacting," Momiji protested again, "I'm perfectly fine to walk, in fact the doctor said walking helps to speed the labor along –"

His eyes jerked in her direction then and he gave her a meaningful look, "Why do we want to speed it up now? Right this minute, out here in the middle of nowhere, Momiji? And I think you've done enough walking this afternoon, don't you?"

Momiji put up her hands in surrender and gave him an innocuous look, "Okay, Kusanagi." She refrained from telling him that labor could drag on for hours since he probably wasn't going to listen at this point anyway. Instead, she remained meekly quiet as he curtly interrupted Midori and Murakumo. They broke apart immediately and after a clipped explanation, everyone quickly cleaned up the picnic spot and then moved back towards the main trails on the mountain where they could catch the cable car back down to the bottom.

When they finally reached the cable car, Kusanagi finally put Momiji back on her feet, and they all crowded around her. Very conscious of her condition, both Kusanagi and Midori would ask her from time to time if she was doing okay, though Midori was much calmer about it than her husband. Murakumo remained silent the entire time, but Momiji was struck by the fact that he seemed to be keenly interested in her condition.

And then she realized why: he'd never witnessed the pregnancy of Noa's mother, nor the actual birth, and he'd just learned that Midori was pregnant, so it was understandable for him to be curious. All the way down the mountain and in the car on the way to the hospital, the pains stayed regular, and Momiji was relieved when they finally pulled into the parking lot, because the contractions were getting closer and closer together. They were also becoming sharper.

Everyone was there, waiting inside: her mother and grandmother; Mr. and Mrs. Kunikida; Kome, Yaegashi and their seven month old baby boy; Sugishita, Matsudaira, and even the glamorous Sakura. Kusanagi had called her mother who had been staying with them in Tokyo on the way to hospital and she must have contacted everyone else as well, Momiji thought, offering them a tight smile as another pain hit her.

It wasn't until the light had faded from the windows and most of the city had fallen asleep before Momiji was able to smile easily again. But thirteen hours and fifteen minutes after that, holding her newborn baby girl with her husband at her side, the smile was back, unrestrained and untinged with pain.

"Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Momiji whispered.

"No," came Kusanagi's murmured reply, his eyes illuminated with tenderness as he tilted his head sideways and lifted his hand to stroke his wife's cheek, "but she comes a close second."

Then he leaned forward, kissing the soft chubby cheek of the chestnut headed cherub in Momiji's arms they had named Mai before moving up to give his wife a soft kiss, whispering against her cheek, "What was that you were saying about an eventful day, Princess?"

"Well I meant for Midori and Murakumo," Momiji grinned tiredly. "I didn't exactly have this in mind when I said it."

"Maybe not, but this was the only part that mattered to me," Kusanagi declared, stretching his arms above his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Although I did find out that you won't have to hold your breath where Midori and Murakumo are concerned."

His tone was lethargic as he spoke but his eyes were still bright as they watched her.

Momiji perked up momentarily at that. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, if you think I'm saying that Midori told Murakumo about the baby and that he asked her to marry him after telling her he cared for her, then yes, you are correct."

Her expression fell a little at that. "That's it? He didn't tell her that he loved her? Just that he cared?"

Kusanagi sat a little straighter in his chair at that and exclaimed softly so as to not wake the baby up, "Well, Momiji, it's a start! For someone who abhors humans, I think it's incredible that he's admitted that much! And it seemed to send Midori over the moon! The only reason I know about it is because she was excitedly telling your mother about it out in the hallway earlier this evening," adding with a dry look, "-- while Murakumo was out of earshot, or course."

Momiji smiled after a moment, and nodded her head. "As long as she's happy. That's what I care most about."

"Me too," Kusanagi agreed, "and she seems to be happy."

"What about you?" Momiji asked shooting him a long look. "Are you happy?" She looked down at Mai sleeping in her arms, hesitating a long moment before adding in a neutral way, "your daughter… has mitamas…"

"I'm deliriously happy," Kusanagi interrupted vehemently, reaching out and squeezing his wife's arm reassuringly. "She's beautiful, just like you, and I know that she will grow into a strong, independent, young woman. She's perfect, Momiji," he told her earnestly. "You're perfect! -- In fact, in this one moment, everything feels so frighteningly perfect!"

Momiji gave him a searching look and then bowed her head in grateful acceptance, a smile playing at the corner of her lips at her husband's abashed expression.

"Perfectly frightening, Kusanagi?" she asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Yes!" he baldly agreed, pointing a teasing finger at her, "but, it's the kind of terror I want for the rest of my life!"

**_Can you believe it!? I FINALLY FINALLY finished it!!! If you stuck around until the end, I bow humbly before you and offer my thanks. It was a long story. I hope it brought some closure for you. If you enjoyed it, let me know. If you didn't enjoy it, let me know. If you're interest in what I'll be writing next, keep an eye out for it - it will be a piece on Inuyasha. If you hate Inuyasha then I offer my condolences to you and point you in the direction of the plethora of stories on just about any anime out there you can find here or at If you have gotten tired of anime altogether and have a taste for something similar yet different at the same time, and want to hang out with me some more, I will eventually be penning original fiction -- once I get my style a little more wrinkle free, that is . Thanks again for spending some time with me!_**


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